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SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 

The  Beginning 

BY 
LIEUTENANT   MILUTIN  KHU'NICH 


Wrni  THE  AID  IN  ENGLISH  IDIOM  OP 
LEAH  MARIE  BRUCE 


BOSTON  AND  NEW   YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

^be  RitarrsiDe  prcs^  ^ambriDge 


COPYRIGHT,   1917,    BY   THE   ATLANTIC    MONTHLY    COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,    I918,   BY   HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN    COMPANY 

ALL   RIGHTS   RESERVED 

Published  March  1Q18 


This  Book 

is  dedicated  to  Mrs.  Bruce,  who  proved 
how  an  American  mother  could  love  a 
child  from  the  great  democratic  family. 

M.  K. 


CONTENTS 

I.  The  Fall  of  Nisn 1 

II.  The  Graveyard  by  the  Morava     .  154 

III.  The  Place  of  the  Skull    .       .       .  168 

IV.  Our  Child 201 


"The  Graveyard  by  the  Morava"  and  "Thb 
Place  of  the  Skull"  are  reprinted  by  permission  of 
the  editor  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly. 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 
I 

THE  FALL  OF  NISH 

"How  beautiful  is  this  country !  '*  exclaimed 
Bata,  filling  his  breast  with  the  pure  fresh  air, 
and  stretching  out  his  arms  in  a  tender  imag- 
inary embrace  toward  the  fields,  forests,  rosy 
hills,  blue  mountains,  white  and  peaceful  vil- 
lages of  the  paradise  which  sped  before  our 
eyes,  bathed  in  an  ocean  of  morning  sunlight. 

"Beautiful?  You  might  say  this  of  a  dress, 
a  hat,  a  horse,  a  house,  or  even  an  apple,  but 
for  this  land,  our  Serbia,  it  means  nothing.  To 
describe  her  you  must  use  the  language  of 
poetry,  for  her  country  is  poetry  and  her  peo- 
ple are  poets.  Or  you  must  speak  in  the  voice 
of  thunder,  for  those  hills  are  pyramids  built 
of  the  bones  of  your  grandfathers,  piled  and 
cemented  with  their  blood;  from  them  the 
song  of  liberty  has  thundered  in  terrible  bat- 
tles. Or  you  must  use  the  language  of  tears, 
for  those  brooks  are  the  tears  of  slaves  for  five 
1 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


centuries;  or  of  song,  for  the  Serbian  sings 
whether  he  lives  in  happy  liberty,  or  lan- 
guishes in  chains  of  slavery.  Sing  to  me,  Bata, 
and  I  shall  understand  you  best,"  said  Spale,^ 
who  was  sitting  by  the  door  of  the  car. 

Bata  grew  serious  for  a  moment,  and  then 
smiled  bitterly. 

"We  artists  can  never  be  natural.  He  is 
begging  me  to  sing  to  him  while  he  is  going  to 
die!  His  heart  wants  a  song  while  *two'  have 
already  grasped  him,  one  at  the  hair  and  the 
other  at  the  feet,  and  the  third,  —  hmm,  — 
his  'own  brother,'  has  raised  his  *  brotherly' 
hand,  in  which  glitters  the  poisoned  knife, 
with  which  he  wants  to  pierce  this  very  heart 
which  is  singing.  You  know  that  the  Bul- 
garian national  tradition  is:  hate;  be  silent; 
for  the  other  knife  you  must  have  is  between 
your  teeth." 

"That  is  the  difference  between  the  broth- 
ers: they  have  the  knije  between  their  teeth 
and  cannot  sing:  we  have  another  tradition, 
quite  different:  *sing  me  the  everlasting 
song'!" 

*  Pronounced  Spah-lay. 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


My  noble  comrades!  Both  were  artists. 
Bata  was  a  poet,  a  visible,  powerful,  healthy- 
figure,  at  the  new  young  and  modern  Serbian 
Parnassus.  Spale  was  a  painter,  an  ideal  soul, 
a  true  artist  in  his  whole  being,  the  flower  of 
an  artistic  nation,  which,  as  in  poetry,  so  in 
colors,  sought  to  give  an  expression  of  its 
heart.  With  his  unusual  intelligence,  great 
work,  indomitable  will,  and  divine  genius, 
Spale  had  striven  to  link  modern  painting 
with  the  national  painting,  to  give  voice  to 
the  national  feelings,  and  thus  to  give  to  na- 
tional art  a  new  direction,  from  patriarchal 
simplicity  to  develop  a  new  and  brilliant 
epoch  from  which  the  European  critics  would 
determine  its  place  in  the  artistic  world.  This 
had  succeeded  well  in  later  times;  this  art  had 
been  admired  in  the  salons  of  Paris  and  Lon- 
don. Spale's  name  had,  at  this  time,  begun  to 
shine  among  the  other  Serbian  stars :  Mesh- 
trovich,^  Vuchetich,  Roksandich,  Jovanovich, 

*  Meshtrovich,  Serbian  sculptor,  of  world-wide  reputation, 
whose  exhibition  in  London  raised  a  storm  of  admiration. 
The  most  famous  among  his  works  are  "  Kossovo  Temple," 
"My  Mother,"  "Milosh  Ohilich,"  "Marko  Kralevich," 
"  Srja-ZIopogleja,"  etc. 

3 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


Bucovatz,  Vookanovich,  Gleeshich,  Predich, 
whose  works  were,  as  those  of  Spale,  the  inter- 
pretation of  the  Serbian  national  art. 

Bata  and  Spale  were  both  young,  but  they 
had  won,  by  their  work,  a  high  place  in  Ser- 
bian society.  Both,  with  their  great  knowl- 
edge, will,  and  power,  and  undying  love  of 
their  country,  had  put  themselves  at  the  head 
of  Young  Serbia,  guiding  it  by  their  genius  to 
a  happy  future.  Each  in  his  own  direction  had 
endeavored  to  show  the  twentieth-century 
world  that  Serbia,  although  little,  had  the  right, 
by  her  progress  in  all  the  fields  in  which  other 
European  nations  had  grown,  not  only  to  be  a 
free  country,  but  also,  by  all  her  public  works 
to  be  ranked  with  modern  nations.  The  work 
of  those  two  young  men,  like  that  of  the  whole 
nation  during  this  later  period,  had  flourished 
with  a  strange  beauty  and  with  tremendous 
success.  Art  is  the  life  of  a  nation,  the  scale 
on  which  its  value  is  computed,  the  light 
which  brightens  a  nation,  showing  to  the 
whole  world  its  life.  The  artists  are  the 
creators  of  this  light,  the  leaders,  the  first 
men,  who  are  glorified  by  the  grateful  peo- 
4 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


pie.  Certainly  Bata  and  Spale  had  begun  to 
feel  the  sweetness  of  a  beautiful,  deserved 
glory. 

And  now.^  There  are  no  more  poets,  no 
more  painters,  no  art,  no  glory,  but  only  sol- 
diers, desperate  defenders  of  liberty.  Liberty 
is  the  mother  of  art,  and  art  is  life.  When 
there  is  no  liberty,  then  there  is  no  art,  no  life. 
Now  the  people  who  were  proud  of  their  lib- 
erty and  their  art  are  hurling  themselves  to 
destroy  Serbian  liberty,  the  liberty  of  our 
good  mother  who  had  created  such  beautiful, 
healthy,  sweet,  and  wonderful  children.  Yet 
the  children  defend  and  die  for  their  mother. 
They  become  as  one:  poet  with  blacksmith, 
minister  with  workman,  painter  with  peasant, 
gentleman  with  shepherd.  All  are  going  in  one 
line,  the  line  of  soldiers,  defenders,  a  living 
wall  of  manly  breasts  with  only  one  thought: 
death  or  liberty. 

For  this  reason  Bata  and  Spale,  as  simple 
lieutenants,  were  mingled  with  common  sol- 
diers, crowded  with  fifty  others  in  an  "H'* 
car,  used  in  time  of  peace  to  carry  oxen  and 
swine,  and  they  were  running  toward  Pirot, 
5 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


there  to  form  a  third  wall  against  the  third 
enemy,  the  "brotherly"  Bulgarian. 

That  of  which  the  Serbian  diplomats  had 
the  most  fear,  that  which  the  Allied  Ambassa- 
dors had  worked  with  all  their  power  to  pre- 
vent, offering  incredible  sacrifices,  had  come: 
Serbia  was  surrounded  —  Serbia,  the  stum- 
bling-block of  the  Kaiser  and  his  Junkers,  the 
watchful  sentinel  of  the  East,  the  deep  cliff  on 
the  road  to  India,  the  pyramid  at  the  foot  of 
which  had  broken  the  waves  of  Teutonic  in- 
vasion, the  key  of  the  victory  of  the  Central 
Powers;  her  people  a  band  of  heroes  who,  in 
their  own  way,  had  explained  the  Drang  nach 
Osten,  little  black  scarecrows  in  the  midst  of 
Potsdam,  a  bug  in  the  eye  of  *' magnissimus 
Csesar."  Yes,  the  firm  wall  of  living  breasts 
now  is  swaying.  Were  they  not  enough  for 
little  Serbia  —  the  legions  of  the  two  "strong- 
est world-powers  "?  Was  it  not  enough  for  the 
poor  Serbians  —  the  dreadful  typhus  which 
was  made  worse  by  all  the  Junkers  and 
Hungarians? 

No,  it  was  not  enough,  for  Serbia  still  con- 
tinues, Serbia  is  still  alive.  And,  seeing  his 
6 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 

weakness,  and  fearing  new  Serbian  victories, 
the  Kaiser,  forgetting  for  the  moment  the 
honor  of  his  Junkers,  with  one  wink  ordered 
his  vassal  servant  to  set  the  Bulgarian  people 
against  Serbia;  a  people  who  are  worse  than 
this  servant,  and  a  people  who,  imfortunately, 
know  where  the  brotherly  heart  is  lying.  Ever 
since  the  war  began,  the  Serbian  nation  hoped 
that  the  Bulgarians  would  now,  at  this  critical 
moment,  with  their  free  thought,  with  their 
Slavic  feelings,  and  their  democratic  ideas, 
tear  away  with  one  stroke  the  black  curtain 
which  German  influence  had  tied  over  their 
eyes,  and  finally  look  into  the  light  of  truth. 

But  alas !  Now  the  Serbians  were  convinced 
that  the  Bulgarian  nation  was  really  a  moral 
slave,  a  blind  horse,  which  foreign  Coburg 
pulled  by  his  own  will  with  the  German  bridle. 

Belgrade,  Shabatz,  Valevo,  Laznitca,  Sme- 
dereno,  were  all  destroyed.  But  what  does  it 
mean  to  the  Kaiser.?  Nothing.  He  wants  the 
very  heart  of  Serbia,  the  point  which  links 
Berlin-Bagdad.  Yes,  he  needs  Nish.  But  it  is 
very  far  from  the  Sava  to  Nishava,  and  the 
road  is  very  hard  over  Bagrdan  Pass,  the  Ser- 
7 


SKKBl.V   CMU'CMFIKO 


biaii  brtnist  which  tlofonds  aiul  hides  its  honrt. 
Bociiuse  of  tJuit  thon^  is  niwl  of  a  "brother" 
wlio  knows  just  whoro  this  heart  is.  This 
**brotJuT."  with  a  shishini;  knife  in  his  hand 
and  another  betwtvn  his  tet^tJi,  witJi  tlio  sign 
of  hatrtxl  on  his  fon»head.  sihMitly  rushtxl 
toward  the  brotherly  heart.  bVoni  this  mo- 
ment the  agony  of  St^rbia  began.  Deatli  tin- 
ally  fouml  its  most  comfortable  cradle. 

And  yet,  now.  those  men,  those  Serbian  sol- 
diers, prt^sstxi  into  this  big  car  as  grain  is  held 
in  tJie  hand  of  a  poor  man.  crowiUnl  over  us, 
reaching  out  their  heads  through  tlie  wide- 
open  door  in  order  to  see  tlie  divine  picture 
whicii  passeil  befort>  tlieir  eyes.  And  looking 
upon  the  dear  little  villages,  their  white 
churclies,  their  fields  and  hills,  upon  all  this 
romantic  beauty,  upon  their  poetry,  anil  in- 
toxicated by  tiie  sweet  perfume  of  tlie  frt»e 
anil  magnificent  dawn,  tiieir  hearts  trt^mbk\l 
with  powerful  cTuotion.  and  suddenly  tJie 
song  tlumderiHl  from  their  breasts. 

Aoy.  Kayka,  wluit  a  load  I  carry! 

Your  nu4hor*s  sorrow,  now.  how  cau  you 

marry? 

8 


TIIK   FALL  OV   NISII 


Ec,  yoo,  yoo,  brides  are  few, 
Ee,  yoo,  yoo,  brides  are  few, 
Tlifty  kw;p  t^ie  ones  tliey'd  promised  you, 

S*>ldiers,  mother,  see  the  giiiw  they  carry ! 
They'll  save  us  and  come  back,  and  I  shall 
noarry. 

Ee,  yfX),  y(X},  brides  are  few, 
Ee,  yfxj,  yf>o,  bridcrs  are  few. 
They  keep  the  ones  they'd  promised  you. 

ThU  is  the  song  of  my  regiment.  Every 
Serbian  regiment  has  its  own  song  made  by 
its  own  soldiers.  I  cannot  explain  what  this 
song  means  to  the  soldiers.  It  is  a  holy  thing, 
the  prayer,  the  hope,  the  power,  the  life.  Song 
bi  the  best  expression  and  interpreter  of  a 
regiment.  With  it  a  regiment  goes  into  bat- 
tle, with  it  the  soldier  fights;  it  gives  him 
courage  and  force,  it  intoxicates  him,  and  de- 
fends hirn,  and  with  it  he  dies. 

Really  there  is  something  strange  in  my 
peoph?,  which  I  have  scarcely  seen  in  other 
nations,  something  so  powerful,  so  truly 
beautiful,  pure,  and  ideal,  that  it  can  be  ex- 
pressed by  only  one  language,  the  language 
of  song.    Because  of  that,  song  is  always  on 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


a  Serbian's  lips;  he  speaks  with  it,  he  ex- 
presses with  it  the  desires  of  his  heart  for 
beauty  and  hberty.  And  the  soldiers  are  the 
fathers  and  brothers  defending  this  beauty 
and  liberty.  Perhaps  this  is  why  every  Ser- 
bian regiment  has  its  own  song. 

"My  wonderful  people!"  exclaimed  Bora, 
who  was  sitting  beside  me  at  the  door,  trem- 
bling with  emotion.  He  was  a  student  ser- 
geant, our  little  boy,  the  youngest  in  my  com- 
pany, with  rosy  cheeks  and  innocent  eyes, 
which,  up  to  this  time,  had  looked  upon  the 
world  seeking  only  beauty.  Now  they  were 
filled  with  tears. 

"Yes,  my  wonderful  people!"  said  Spale. 
"Thy  wonder  is  song!  They  have  chosen  song 
to  be  their  ideal  aim  of  life,  their  teacher,  and 
most  powerful  help.  The  Serbian  people 
know  the  power  of  song.  In  their  simplicity 
they  say,  *Song  has  supported  us;  to  it,  our 
gratitude.'  Yes,  songs  strengthened  us 
through  the  centuries  of  Turkish  slavery; 
songs  have  given  to  us  liberty;  songs  have 
opened  to  us  the  wide  gate  of  a  happy  future; 
songs  have  avenged  Kossovo,  and  made  free 
10 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


our  brothers.  Those  songs  are  living  in  the 
fields,  forests,  and  mountains;  they  are  living 
in  the  breast  of  the  Serbian  nation.  That  is 
why  we  are  still  alive.  And  now  there  is  need 
of  the  whole  of  Krupp's  Kultur,  all  the 
Mephistophelian  philosophy,  all  the  devilish 
schemes,  Shwaba's  legions,  millions  of  'broth- 
ers,' hunger,  thirst,  horrors,  and  everything 
imaginable,  to  destroy  this  song.  But,  so 
help  me  God,  these  legions  and  millions,  ten 
to  one,  can  destroy,  kill,  and  crush  into  the 
dust  everything  but  one,  and  this  is  Serbian 
song.  When  our  whole  regiment  shall  be 
destroyed,  its  song  will  hover  over  its  ruins, 
and  with  its  wonderful  power,  its  might  of 
eternal  life,  create  again  a  new  life,  a  new 
future." 

Thus  spoke  a  Serbian,  and  the  thunder  of 
the  song  which  had  overcome  the  rattling  of 
the  cars,  was  the  best  proof  of  the  truth  of  his 
words. 

But  the  train,  paying  no  heed  to  these  ideal 
moments,  sped  on,  carrying  us  to  a  cold  and 
terrible  reality. 

Ht     *     * 
11 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


When  we  reached  Pirot,  war  had  not  yet 
been  declared,  for  the  diplomats  were  still 
fighting.  It  was  a  contest  full  of  shame,  for 
the  Bulgarians  had  no  fundamental  reason 
why  they  should  declare  war  —  no  reason 
which  would  be  sensible  in  the  eyes  of  the 
honest  world.  Certainly  the  Bulgarians  had 
a  very  difficult  position  in  this  struggle,  one 
to  which  they  were  not  accustomed.  Only  two 
years  before  they  had  attacked  the  Serbians, 
their  allies  of  yesterday,  without  a  diplo- 
matic struggle  or  declaration  of  war.  Two 
years  ago,  knowing  that  they  had  no  reason, 
nor  weapons  with  which  to  fight  diplomati- 
cally, —  which  is  the  first  condition  of  demo- 
cratic existence,  —  and  fearing  to  come  as 
men  in  the  full  light  of  God  in  an  honest  bat- 
tle, they  chose  a  third  way,  the  way  of  hyenas 
and  serpents,  by  which  the  "Tsar-Coburg" 
had  ordered  his  "courageous  children"  to  at- 
tack the  Serbians  in  a  dark  night. 

Moreover,  that  the  vile  thing  might  be 

complete  and  perfect,  the  Bulgarian  officers 

dined  with  the  Serbians  that  same  night, 

sharing  their  bread,  while  in  their  pockets 

12 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


was  the  written  order  for  this  attack.  A  real 
dinner  of  Judas  Iscariot  in  this  twentieth 
century  I  At  that  time  they  could  do  this,  for 
the  thing  was  of  an  "entirely  local  nature/* 
and,  besides,  Austria  was  back  of  them. 

But  now  it  was  quite  different.  Now  the 
thing  was  not  of  a  "local  nature";  now  the 
truth  was  not  hidden  by  the  "darkness  of 
the  Balkans"  and  the  "Ballplatz  of  Vienna," 
from  the  eyes  of  the  rest  of  the  world,  but,  on 
the  contrary,  to-day  the  eyes  of  an  Argus 
looked  upon  the  Balkans.  Now  they  had  to 
have  a  reason  with  which  a  brother  could  tear 
out  the  brotherly  heart;  they  had  to  have  a 
real  basis  for  war,  au  ultimatum,  a  breaking 
of  diplomatic  relations,  a  regular  declaration 
of  war;  for  the  time  of  darkness,  of  Attila  and 
Alaric  had  gone.  Alas!  scarcely  two  years! 
And  in  a  terrible  need  for  a  fundamental  rea- 
son, Coburg,  the  son  of  a  Teutonic  tribe, 
invented  it  in  an  ingenious  manner.  It  was 
Macedonia! 

In  1913  Macedonia  was  the  reason  for  war. 
But  at  that  time  Bulgarian  diplomacy  did  not 
dare  to  fight  honestly  with  this  weapon,  for 
13 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


we  were  all  too  familiar  with  this  thing.  The 
Bulgarians  knew  very  well  that  Macedonia, 
for  them,  meant  only  a  good  bite  with  which 
they  could  satisfy  their  megalomaniac  ap- 
petite. But  for  the  Serbians  Macedonia  meant 
everything,  past  and  future,  creator  of  the 
Serbian  State,  work  of  Serbian  efforts,  cradle 
of  glory  and  song,  —  in  one  word,  Serbia's 
soul.  When  Bulgaria,  then,  did  not  dare  to 
fight  with  this  weapon  among  the  Balkans, 
now,  among  strangers,  believing  in  the  power 
of  lies,  they  courageously  put  it  on  the  green 
table. 

Deceit  is  an  element  of  Bulgarian  character. 
Even  in  1913,  the  dupes,  foul  and  paid  schol- 
ars among  the  Coburg,  had  tried  with  all 
their  strength  to  prove  that  Macedonia  by 
ethnographic  reasons  should  be  Bulgarian.^ 

^  In  February  of  1913  the  Bulgarian  Academy  printed  a 
brochure,  a  protest  against  the  Serbian  political  and  military 
control  over  the  Macedonian  inhabitants,  who  by  ethno- 
graphic reasons  were  Bulgarians,  and  as  such  were  antagonized 
by  the  Serbians.  The  9th  of  May,  1913,  Mr.  Stojanovich,  the 
secretary  of  the  Serbian  Royal  Academy,  sent  to  all  foreign 
academies,  societies,  and  libraries  a  declaration  of  a  plenary 
assembly  of  the  academic  members,  seeking,  by  scientific 
proofs,  to  overthrow  the  reasons  of  the  Bulgarian  Academy 
and  to  declare  them  false.   The  declaration  is  ended:  if  the 

14 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


This  lie  did  not  help  them  before  the  Serbians 
and  other  Slavs.  Now  they  are  trying  the 
same  before  the  strangers.  What  a  foul  thing! 
What  misery!  A  spirit  full  of  slavish  ambi- 
tion, the  spirit  which  distinguishes  the  Bul- 
garian nation!  But  those  strangers  were  the 
Serbian  allies,  who,  fighting  together  for  the 
same  thing,  knew  themselves  very  well,  and 
especially  their  souls.  And  the  Serbian  soul 
was  just  this  Macedonia,  which  the  Bulgari- 
ans are  asking  for  themselves :  a  slavish  spirit 
asks  for  the  Serbian  soul!  "The  strangers'* 
had  quickly  seen  the  truth  and  with  it  illu- 
mined the  Bulgarian  lies.  But  the  "Bulgarian 
Tsar"  did  not  care  for  this,  and  the  Bulgarian 
nation,  as  I  have  said,  is  a  slave,  a  blind  horse, 
which  this  Teuton,  by  an  old  custom  of  the 
tribe,  drives  with  Gessler's  spurs,  despised 
even  by  their  great  Schiller. 

In  these  critical  moments,  the  Allied  dip- 
lomats associated  with  the  Serbian  diplo- 
mats, realizing  the  imperative  need  of  Ser- 

Serbian  Royal  Academy  should  enter  into  political  discussion 
about  Macedonia,  it  would  protest  against  her  separation  from 
Serbia  for  much  more  important  reasons  than  ethnological 
ones. 

15 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


bia's  independence,  had  continued  even 
against  their  will  this  ugly,  miserable  fight- 
ing, offering  to  their  adversary  indescribable 
sacrifices  —  quite  the  half  of  the  Serbian  soul. 
But  Ferdinand  "remains  cold"  (for  there  was 
no  question  about  the  soul,  but  about  the 
heart  of  Serbia,  about  Nish,  the  aim  of  the 
European  war)  and  the  Bulgarian  people 
still  remained  blind,  for  —  oh,  shame!  — 
among  them  will  never  be  born  a  William 
Tell.  And  seeing  that  in  Sofia  everybody  was 
bowing  low  before  the  Teutonic  hat,  Ferdi- 
nand, encouraged  by  this  "veneration,"  took 
the  decisive  step;  he  recalled  his  ambassador 
from  Serbia. 

While  this  unique  and  most  memorable 
struggle  of  all  history  was  going  on,  the  Ser- 
bian people  were  not  sitting  with  folded  arms. 
Knowing  the  Bulgarian  people  very  well,  by 
most  bitter  experience,  they  knew  that  this 
diplomatic  contest  was  in  vain.  They  felt 
that  the  Bulgarians  would  attack  them,  and 
on  the  third  side,  in  spite  of  such  tremendous 
sacrifices.  Therefore,  they  bravely  began  an- 
other struggle,  a  struggle  very  heavy,  very 
16 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


painful,  and  quite  impossible  —  the  struggle 
with  nature.  When  the  Serbian  people  saw 
that  it  was  impossible  to  make  the  defending 
wall  of  their  breasts  on  a  front  of  more  than 
eight  hundred  miles  (at  that  time  Serbia  had 
scarcely  three  hundred  thousand  soldiers), 
they  tried  with  all  their  power  to  prepare  na- 
ture to  help  them.  Under  the  guidance  of 
their  General  Staff,  the  whole  Serbian  nation 
became  workmen  with  picks  and  shovels,  en- 
deavoring to  perform  this  superhuman  task. 
The  hills  were  destroyed  and  made  new,  the 
century-old  stones  were  crushed  and  piled, 
the  most  terrible  peaks  were  climbed,  and  the 
deepest  precipices  were  explored,  the  forests 
were  cut  down,  the  fields  were  slashed  with 
endless  trenches,  the  old  roads  were  destroyed 
and  new  ones  built,  the  rivers  were  ordered 
where  to  run :  and  all  this  to  be  done  in  a  time 
impossible  to  imagine  —  in  three  weeks.  Yet, 
while  doing  this  Herculean  work,  by  which 
the  hands  became  bloody  and  the  body 
broken  by  exhaustion,  the  Serbian  people 
still  sang.  They  sang  for  this  gigantic  task  to 
be  done,  and  for  their  heart  and  for  their  soul 
17 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


—  for  Nish  and  Macedonia.  And  with  the 
strokes  of  picks,  shovels,  and  axes,  through 
this  beautiful,  romantic  nature,  over  these 
mountains  and  valleys,  echoed  the  song.  To 
their  dear  poetry  the  Serbians  added  the  last 
pages :  their  regimental  songs. 


When  my  regiment  arrived  at  Pirot,  the 
whole  Second  Army  was  there.  More  than 
sixty  thousand  men  in  a  little  town!  A  real 
hive!  A  hive  full  of  industrious  bees,  which, 
under  a  certain  devilish  rule  (this  strange 
effect  will  be  noticed  in  the  New  World  En- 
cyclopaedia under  the  name  of  "Pan-Ger- 
manism"), had  put  on  one  side  their  old  job, 
making  honey,  and  had  taken  up  a  new  one, 
that  of  sharpening  their  stings.  Through  the 
wide-open  doors  of  large  storehouses  streamed 
a  flood  of  picks,  shovels,  saws,  axes,  lumber, 
carried  in  their  arms,  or  piled  on  big  wagons, 
on  little  donkeys  and  horses,  and  taken  in 
all  directions,  to  all  points,  in  order  to  make 
from  the  comb,  poison,  and  from  poetry, 
thunder!  Such  was  the  time.  Everything 
18 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


was  changed.  The  perfume  of  flowers  became 
asphyxiating  gas;  the  rivers,  blood;  the  woods, 
*' forests  of  dead";  the  bowels  of  the  moun- 
tains, horrors;  the  fields,  "lands  of  tears";  the 
cemeteries  were  places  without  boundaries, 
for  they  were  everywhere;  the  churches  were 
objects  for  sacrilege;  the  artist  became  a  crip- 
ple; man  became  an  animal;  love  was  gone; 
and  the  nation  was  ashes.  The  question  is. 
Who  was  guilty.'^  The  encyclopaedia  of  the 
future  will  explain. 

My  regiment  got  orders  to  fortify  the  posi- 
tions on  the  left  side  of  the  town  and  on  the 
right  slopes  along  the  Nishava  River  —  a  big 
space  which  reaches  from  Basarski-Kamen 
to  the  Bulgarian  frontier,  and  from  Strashna- 
Chooka  to  Batooshin.  First  of  all,  my  com- 
pany had  to  fortify  the  mountains  around 
Tser-Tser,  a  gigantic  mountain  which  cut  the 
clouds. 

On  the  25th  of  August,  just  before  evening, 
my  company  came  to  the  foot  of  Tser-Tser. 
Our  captain  had  chosen  for  our  camp  a  beau- 
tiful little  green  valley  edged  by  the  old  wild- 
pear  trees,  through  which  a  joyful  little  moun- 
19 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


tain  brook  murmui;ed  and  sang,  and  from 
which  we  could  start  every  morning  in  all 
directions,  as  required,  to  dig  trenches,  for- 
tify peaks,  and  make  roads.  With  astonish- 
ing rapidity  the  tents  were  set  in  four  straight 
lines,  and  very  soon  the  blue  smoke  rose  from 
the  end  of  the  valley  where  the  cooks  were 
preparing  the  dinner. 

Immediately  the  captain  called  Spale,  who 
was  in  my  company  as  a  commander  of  the 
second  platoon;  Cheda,  a  sergeant,  a  com- 
mon peasant,  but  an  excellent  man  and  an 
old  warrior,  the  commander  of  the  third 
platoon;  Trailo,  also  a  sergeant  and  peasant, 
a  wild  man,  coming  from  the  wildest  and 
most  mountainous  part  of  Serbia,  but  a  real 
hero,  the  commander  of  the  fourth  platoon; 
and  me,  the  commander  of  the  first  platoon, 
to  climb  with  him  to  the  top  of  Tser-Tser, 
there  to  give  us  instructions,  for  we  had  no 
time  to  lose.  Bora,  who  was  only  a  simple 
sergeant  in  my  platoon,  came  along  with  us, 
for  it  was  customary  to  make  all  company 
consultations  with  him,  as  he  was  a  student, 
an  intelligent  boy,  our  friend  in  time  of  peace, 
20 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


and,  after  all,  we  were  so  used  to  his  smile, 
joke,  laughter,  and  eternal  song. 

My  God!  I  shall  never  forget  the  picture 
which  revealed  itself  to  our  eyes  when  we  got 
to  the  top.  From  this  tremendous  height, 
this  beautiful  pure  evening,  the  vision  could 
penetrate  very,  very  far,  and  thought  fled 
even  to  the  sky.  The  sun,  a  glorious  flaming 
ball  of  ruby,  sank  slowly  behind  the  Rtan 
Mountain,  whose  gigantic  rest  can  be  seen 
from  nearly  all  parts  of  Serbia.  It  seemed  to 
me  as  if  the  sun  had  stopped  for  a  moment 
on  the  strong  centuries-old  shoulder  of  Rtan 
and  whispered  something  to  him.  And  he, 
old  watchful  giant,  the  sentinel  of  this  coun- 
try, filling  his  deep  wrinkles  and  caverns,  on 
which  are  written  the  traces  of  the  national 
history,  with  the  rosy  radiance  of  the  sun, 
smiled,  for  sweet  were  the  words  the  sun  had 
whispered  to  its  beloved  one.  And  everywhere 
around  were  high  peaks  and  crests,  white, 
bare,  and  stony,  upon  which  the  joyful 
gleams  were  dancing,  hesitating  to  leave  them, 
intoxicated  by  this  endless  space.  Between 
those  peaks  and  crests  wound  in  all  direc- 
21 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


tions  the  deep  and  blue  valleys,  through  which 
the  white  rivers,  dashing  against  the  gray 
rocks,  were  running  in  one  direction,  while 
in  the  opposite  the  stream  of  waves  of  rosy 
radiance  were  fleeing  like  the  spirits  of  hap- 
piness. 

And  everywhere,  in  this  beautiful  nature, 
a  divine  artist  had  mingled  the  blue  of  sky 
and  mountains  with  the  red  and  rosy  hues  of 
the  sun,  and  had  made  a  wondrously  tender 
violet  ocean,  which,  like  a  good  mother,  em- 
braced this  whole  land  in  a  long,  long  kiss. 

Beneath  our  feet  spread  uncountable  hills 
and  peaks,  which  were  connected  by  warm 
old  forests  and  little  green  meadows  and  val- 
leys, like  a  charming  beautiful  rug  woven  by 
the  golden  hands  of  an  innocent  girl  in  her 
dream  of  love.  Paths  and  roads  over  these 
hills  and  valleys  stretched  like  threads  of  silk; 
and  the  little  villages,  with  their  white  stone 
roofs,  clung  to  these  hillsides  like  the  nests  of 
swallows.  And  the  sweet  breeze,  wafted  over, 
carried  a  rich  and  ravishing  perfume  on  its 
joyous  wings  from  these  warm  valleys,  these 
gigantic  peaks  and  crests,  and  from  the  blue 
22 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


azure,  the  perfume  of  song  and  flowers,  the 
soul  of  this  land.  A  white  flock  moved  slowly 
along  a  green  hillside  going  toward  a  blue 
valley.  A  cheerful,  happy  sound  of  little  bells 
floated  to  this  side. 

"Is  this  the  truth  or  is  it  a  dream?"  ex- 
claimed Bora. 

"Both,  my  little  one,"  said  Spale,  trem- 
bling with  emotion  and  looking  with  his  artis- 
tic eyes  upon  this  magnificent  picture. 

The  mischievous  wind  played  with  his  dark 
hair,  the  ends  of  which  gleamed  with  the  rosy 
radiance  of  the  sun.  His  eyes  glittered  with  a 
strange  light. 

"Yes,"  he  continued,  "this  is  the  truth  of 
a  wonderful  dream,  which  will  be  too  short! 
These  must  be  terrible  men  who  gather  from 
all  sides,  like  wild  beasts,  to  destroy  this  truth, 
the  truth  of  the  happiness  of  a  good  nation, 
this  beautiful  dream,  this  rare  picture." 

"Why?  "  exclaimed  Bora  angrily.  " Majko 
moja!  The  other  nations  preserve  and  de- 
fend the  works  of  their  artists  in  museums  as 
the  most  precious  and  holy  things,  and  now 
those  same  nations  are  hastening  to  destroy 
23 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


this  picture,  this  dream,  this  happiness,  the 
ideal  life  of  a  nation,  a  god's  work!" 

"Don't  be  scared.  Bora.  We  are  here  to 
prevent  this,  and  to  defend,"  said  the  captain 
with  a  pained  smile.  He,  too,  was  much 
moved,  and  he,  too,  saw  this  beauty  and  felt 
the  terrible  sin  which  was  to  be  committed  in 
this  modern  time.  Suddenly  he  started,  came 
back  to  reality,  and  folded  his  maps,  say- 
ing:— 

"Come  on,  comrades,  to  make  our  'mu- 
seum' in  which  we  will  preserve  our  art.  Now 
.  .  .  where  are  we?  Ah,  here.  You  see  that  hill 
there,  and  that  other  beside  it,  Zlateech,  Sed- 
lance,  and  Mali-Tser;  the  trenches  will  be  long 
enough  to  take  in  two  platoons,  facing  that 
valley  there,  so  that  the  fire  wipes  ..." 

Oh,  irony!  From  a  dream  into  an  icy  real- 
ity; from  a  paradise  to  a  hell!  Yes,  very  soon 
the  thunder  will  burst  here;  a  storm  will  be 
raging;  the  stones  will  be  smashed;  the  shrap- 
nel will  whisper;  the  shells  will  explode  every- 
where; the  forests  will  burn;  the  black  smoke 
will  envelop  everything;  the  houses  will  be 
leveled;  everything  will  be  shaking,  falling, 
24 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


crackling,  melting  into  the  dust;  blood  will 
run;  there  will  be  killing  with  teeth.  Yes,  on 
this  place  will  a  nation  be  destroyed. 

After  an  hour  we  went  slowly  down  to  the 
camp.  I  turned  my  head  to  look  for  the  last 
time  on  the  picture.  Darkness  was  falling. 
Yet  the  west  still  burned  magnificently,  and 
Rtan,  there  so  far,  far,  was  still  smiling  hap- 
pily. The  valleys  had  darkened,  and  across 
them  stretched  the  white,  rosy,  and  violet  fog 
like  a  vast  web.  Little  red  lights  glittered  here 
and  there  in  the  villages  and  from  the  roofs 
the  white  smoke  peacefully  rose  and  mingled 
with  the  fog.  Our  camp  looked  very  small 
from  this  height,  the  tents  like  children's  toys, 
placed  by  a  good  boy  on  a  nice  green  table. 
A  bright  sound  of  music,  laughter,  and  song 
came  up  from  the  camp.  Song!  Do  you  under- 
stand this  people.'*  On  the  eve  of  their  death, 
on  the  eve  of  the  day  when  they  must  be- 
come murderers,  they  sang. 


Ten  days  after  this  heavy  painful  work  we 
finally  came  to  the  village  of  Rjana,  only  two 
25 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


miles  from  the  frontier,  the  place  which  my 
regiment  must  defend.  Rjana  was  quite  at 
the  end  of  a  wide,  undulating  valley,  which 
from  Basarski-Kamen  dropped  for  eight 
miles  down  to  the  frontier.  It  looks  like  a 
great  flume.  On  one  side  rose  terrible  Strash- 
na-Chooka,  a  twisted  and  broken  chain  of 
rocky  mountains,  ?nd  on  the  other,  Veedlich, 
a  wonder  of  nature,  a  mighty  wall  of  granite 
more  than  four  thousand  feet  high,  which 
went  from  Basarski-Kamen  far  into  Bulgaria. 
In  the  middle  of  this  wall  was  a  pass  from  the 
valley,  a  natural  endless  stair,  called  Odor- 
ovskee-Prelaz.  Above  Veedlich  was  an  enor- 
mous plateau,  Batooshin,  with  on  one  end 
Golemi-Vrh,  a  peak  more  than  eight  thousand 
feet  in  height. 

Toorsko-Leevaje,  the  name  of  the  valley, 
was  the  key  of  Basarski-Kamen,  the  gate  of 
Nish.  I  do  not  need  to  speak  of  the  impor- 
tance of  this  position.  My  regiment  was  proud 
because  it  had  for  its  task  the  defense  of  it. 
Two  battalions,  the  first  and  third,  of  my 
regiment  (the  Fifteenth)  had  fortified  the 
position  at  Strashna-Chooka,  the  second  was 
26 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


in  the  reserve  of  the  division,  and  mine,  the 
fourth,  had  to  defend  the  valley  itself.  At 
the  end  of  the  valley,  behind  the  village  just 
facing  the  frontier,  two  hills  rose  between  the 
sides  of  the  flume.  One  of  them  was  Tzarev- 
Vees,  a  perfect  geometrical  cone,  and  the  other, 
Dobra-Glava,  like  the  gray  bald  head  of  a 
good-minded  old  man.  The  first  one  had  the 
first  company  and  Dobra-Glava  got  my  second 
company.  Just  across  the  middle  of  the  fore- 
head of  this  poor  old  one  we  dug  three 
trenches  —  the  last  work  of  the  bees,  after 
which  they  will  use  their  stings. 

During  the  time  we  worked  for  defense  and 
fortification  we  heard  no  news.  It  was  quite 
impossible  to  get  it.  Being  far  from  the  whole 
world,  in  the  company  of  these  century-old 
stones,  we  heard  other  news  than  that  about 
the  war  and  politics.  But  once  in  a  while,  Ju- 
lock,  the  commander  of  the  equipment  train 
of  my  regiment,  who  went  often  to  Pirot  for 
supplies,  brought  the  "news":  the  "news  of 
komora"  ^  which  was,  by  long  experience, 
always  the  subject  of  jokes  and  laughter,  and 

^  Commissary  equipment  train. 

27 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


beforehand  declared  "to  be  too  much  salt." 
Yet  in  the  evening,  after  the  heavy  work  was 
done  and  we  were  gathered  around  the  fire, 
usually  eating  cooked  wild  pears,  we  liked, 
for  a  joke's  sake,  to  have  Julock  tell  us  his 
"very  important  news."  He  would  squat 
down  beside  us,  speaking  in  a  low  and  serious 
voice. 

"The  Russians  are  crossing  the  Black  Sea 
on  a  hundred  galleons.  The  French  are  as 
ants'  in  Salonika.  The  Bulgarians  have  killed 
Ferdinand;  true,  so  help  me  God.  The  Kai- 
ser himself  came  to  Zemlin  to  encourage  his 
soldiers  who  do  not  dare  to  attack  us  any 
more."  And  three  hundred  other  items  of 
"important  news"  of  this  sort.  The  soldiers 
listened  to  him  seriously.  We  would  some- 
times smile  bitterly,  and  Spale,  beside  the 
fire,  would  sketch  this  interesting  "press 
bureau  "  a  hundred  times  over. 

When  we  came  to  Rjana,  where  were  the 
staff  of  the  regiment,  the  hospital,  tele- 
graphic and  telephonic  departments,  we 
heard  the  truth.  Belgrade  had  been  at- 
tacked. The  Austro-Hungarian  armies  had 
28 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


crossed  the  Dreena  and  the  Sava,  and  the 
Germans  the  Danube. 

"Now  the  end  begins,"  said  Bata,  whom 
we  had  not  seen  for  more  than  two  weeks,  as 
he  was  in  another  company,  and  the  com- 
panies were  separated  and  dispersed  in  all 
directions. 

"Why  end.''  They  will  kill  me  and  you,  for 
they  are  ten  to  one,  and  they  will  destroy 
everything  we  have  built  for  a  hundred  years; 
but  our  children  will  remain  to  build  again. 
This  is  law,"  said  a  captain,  father  of  five 
little  children,  slowly  and  seriously  as  a  man 
who  has  made  up  his  mind. 

"Ten  to  one!"  exclaimed  Bora.  "Ho, 
Boga  mu!  I  am  just  happy,  for  I  have  my 
twenty  years  and  can  experience  why  a  man 
is  man!" 

"Very  cheap  experience,  indeed,  boy:  only 
a  little  piece  of  lead ! "  The  major,  commander 
of  my  battalion,  tried  to  make  a  joke. 

"Major,  I  must  not  pay  in  the  very  first 
moment,  and  the  certain  number  of  these 
moments  have  ttie  worth  of  this  price,"  said 
Bora,  blushing. 

29 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


"You'll  be  happy  if  you  pay  just  at  the 
very  first,"  said  my  captain  slowly  with  a 
tired  and  bitter  smile. 

A  singular  man!  Certainly  I  shall  never 
meet  such  a  man  again  in  my  lifetime.  He 
was  young  and  very  handsome  with  a  noble 
manner.  During  the  Turkish  w^ar,  at  the 
siege  of  Skadar,  h*^  contracted  pneumonia 
which  soon  turned  into  tuberculosis.  And, 
just  when  he  intended  to  resign  from  the 
army  after  the  Tiukish  war,  the  Bulgarian 
came.  He  went  again  to  the  war  and  his 
health  became  worse.  After  the  war,  he  went 
to  Switzerland  to  seek  a  cure.  One  year  after, 
finding  that  it  was  hopeless,  he  intended  to 
resign,  but  again,  the  same  game  of  destiny  — 
this  war  came.  And  this  real  hero  and  noble- 
man of  democratic  soul  again  led  his  company. 
Now,  in  the  hopeless  misery  of  his  health  and 
in  the  perfect  love  of  his  country,  he  had  only 
one  aim,  to  be  killed.  But  his  bad  destiny  con- 
tinued; he  was  the  most  unhappy  creature 
under  the  sky;  not  even  his  cap  had  been 
pierced!  At  this  moment,  speaking  to  this 
young  and  healthy  boy,  bubbling  over  with 
30 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


youth,  he  thought  from  his  own  sad  point  of 
view. 

Bora  understood  him  and  looked  at  him 
with  a  long,  pitiful,  and  tender  glance. 

Two  days  after,  when  we  had  dug  the 
trenches  where  we  were  to  remain,  we  spent 
our  first  night  in  them,  sitting  close  to  each 
other  on  a  pile  of  fresh  hay.  Spale  and  I  did 
not  sleep,  but  we  looked  up  at  a  piece  of  the 
sky  full  of  stars,  and  listened  to  a  strange 
noise,  a  shivering  noise  which  passed  through 
the  earth  and  which  could  not  be  heard  on  the 
surface.  They  had  begun  at  one  end  to  de- 
stroy this  land,  and  its  pain,  its  last  super- 
human effort  for  existence,  its  shuddering 
from  agony  and  horrible  wounds,  its  last  dy- 
ing quiver  passed  through  its  whole  body. 
The  dreadful  detonations  around  Belgrade 
could  be  heard  even  at  Pirot. 

"It  is  hell  'there,' "  whispered  Spale,  think- 
ing of  Belgrade. 

I  wished  to  make  answer  to  him,  but  I 
could  not,  because  a  black  and  dreadful 
thought  had  crushed  my  nerves  and  whole 
being. 

31 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


The  next  night  we  heard  no  more  noise. 
Around  midnight,  just  as  Spale  had  returned 
from  patrol  duty,  tired,  and  had  lain  down 
beside  me  to  rest,  Julock's  head  appeared 
above  the  trench,  hiding  the  stars. 

"Are  you  there.  Lieutenants?"  he  asked  in 
a  whisper. 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked  him. 

"They  have  taken  Belgrade,  and  now  have 
entirely  destroyed  it,"  he  said  with  a  changed 
voice,  and  I  felt  that  he  spoke  the  truth. 

As  if  somebody  had  struck  me  terribly  on 
the  head,  suddenly  the  stars  were  gone  and 
I  felt  an  unendurable  physical  pain  in  my 
breast:  my  mother  was  there. 


The  days  were  passed  in  idleness.  As  every- 
thing was  done  (we  were  really  ready  to  die), 
so  during  the  whole  day  we  laid  in  the  sun- 
shine between  the  warm  stones,  like  lizards. 
During  the  night  we  were  at  the  "dead  sen- 
tinel," awake  and  watchful,  for  we  had  paid 
dearly  for  our  experience  two  years  ago. 

While  I  was  lying  on  this  height  of  Dobra- 
32 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


Glava,  in  a  sea  of  sunshine  and  air,  I  looked 
around  me,  and  the  objects  aroused  my 
thoughts.  Strange  thing,  this  life.  There  is 
something  wrong  in  it!  These  hills  and  val- 
leys are  quite  the  same  as  those  over  the 
boundary.  The  chain  of  Strashna-Chooka, 
which  reaches  far,  far  into  Bulgaria,  is  just 
the  same  as  here.  This  valley  runs  toward  the 
blue  horizon,  like  a  river,  always  the  same :  the 
same  air,  the  same  houses,  the  same  men  who 
speak  quite  the  same  language,  the  same  sun, 
the  same  sky,  the  same  God,  and  yet  there, 
as  here,  the  trenches  are  growing  with  strange 
rapidity.  Man  before  man,  neighbor  and 
brother,  are  standing  and  looking  upon  each 
other  shivering  with  hatred.  From  that  side 
there,  which  is  the  same  as  this  side  here, 
death  is  coming!  Why?  Because  there  is  a 
German  nobleman  "Tsar."  Because  he  is 
a  member  of  a  certain  group  of  men  (with  a 
sounding  name,  nobility  or  aristocracy)  who, 
through  the  centuries,  have  held  the  nations 
in  slavery  and  have  "ruled." 

But  through  the  long  chain  of  years,  with 
the  help  of  science,  love,  and  natural  laws, 
33 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


the  nations  began  to  move,  to  open  their  eyes, 
and,  brightened  by  the  force  of  their  individ- 
uality, to  grow  strong  in  the  power  of  their 
free  existence  and  right  to  liberty.  More  cul- 
tured nations  (with  a  "simple"  name,  dem- 
ocrats) had  noticed  this  injustice,  the  im- 
possibility of  their  position  in  the  time  in 
which  they  were,  much  earlier  (two  centuries) 
than  the  others,  and  with  their  power,  right, 
and  will  they  have  lighted  the  torch  of  their 
idea. 

After  long  struggles,  travail,  terrible  sacri- 
fices (deep  was  the  root  of  this  poisonous  aris- 
tocratic plant),  and  with  a  flood  of  their  own 
blood  they  washed  away  the  old  regime  (the 
most  brilliant  part  of  American  and  French 
history).  The  nations  less  cultured,  although 
strong,  remained  still  in  this  shameful  posi- 
tion. 

The  group  of  men,  the  German  aristocrats, 
to  which  this  "Tsar"  belongs,  seeing  this 
"movement,"  grew  seriously  frightened.  They 
were  secure  in  their  flock  of  Burgers  and 
Meister  Sdngers,  for  they  know  they  are  useful 
only  for  the  innocent "  beauty  "  of  their  poetry 
34 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


(certainly  not  able  to  accomplish  the  work 
of  sans-culottes) .  Yet  they  were  frightened 
by  "influences"  from  outside.  Not  entirely 
without  reason;  for  some  of  these  good  Meis- 
ter  Sangers,  especially  those  who  were  closer 
to  the  "influence,"  would  "rhyme"  some- 
thing "new"  (oh!  only  in  a  little  liederchen). 
In  order  to  kill  this  "disastrous  thing,"  more 
than  half  a  century  ago  one  of  their  first  men, 
leader,  hero,  and  star,  from  the  high  pedestal 
of  his  political  glory  had  exclaimed  to  the 
German  people  in  thrilling  and  patriotic  ad- 
vice: "Nuhr  nicht  viel  resonieren!" 

In  other  words:  "Shut  up!  and  be  what 
you  are,  slave  and  blind  tool":  the  tool  to 
preserve  aristocracy.  But  the  expression  of 
modern  time  ran  with  "devilish  speed"  and 
the  influence,  in  spite  of  everything,  had  its 
effect.  (Who  ever  saw  such  a  "low  and  ugly'* 
thing  as  socialism  is?) 

So,  before  the  end  of  the  last  century  the 
head  of  this  group  (it  would  be  very  long  and 
tiresome  if  I  were  to  try  to  write  the  title  of 
Kaiser  Wilhelm),  at  the  very  threshold  of 
his  rule,  asked  himself  very  seriously:  To  be, 
35 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


or  not  to  be?  And  the  answer  of  this  al- 
mighty one  was,  indeed:  To  be.  But  how? 
"If  I  am  chosen,  if  I  am  to  remain,"  said  this 
man  one  day  in  a  divine  inspiration,  kneeling 
before  the  tomb  of  Christ  in  Jerusalem,  "if 
I  am  to  rule  over  the  world  in  Thy  name, 
O  Lord,  I  have  to  kill  the  'influence'!" 

Again  the  question.  How?  This  "influ- 
ence" is  the  expression  of  the  idea  of  democ- 
racy of  the  whole  world.  It  was  the  idea  of 
a  divine  right  of  the  people  which  was  spread- 
ing everywhere.  This  idea  has  to  be  de- 
stroyed if  the  Kaiser  Wilhelm  II  and  his  pos- 
terity want  to  rule.  Therefore,  at  a  secret 
assembly  of  German  nobility  (quite  a  noble 
gesture)  which  this  leader  had  gathered  forty 
years  ago,  the  way  was  found  in  which  they 
could  destroy  the  "  influence, "  in  other  words, 
the  democracy  of  the  whole  world. 

From  that  time  began  a  tremendous  sys- 
tematic work,  the  work  of  making  a  gigantic 
engine  which  will  save  the  aristocracy.  Cer- 
tainly this  work  was  tremendous,  for  those 
creatures,  although  morally  dead,  yet  were 
endlessly  powerful  in  money  and  connections. 
36 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


The  programme  of  this  secret  assembly  was 
partially  this :  — 

First,  the  reformation  inside:  the  tool  has 
to  be  well  sharpened.  So  these  noblemen,  not 
with  too  great  painstaking,  have  taught  the 
German  people  to  say  every  morning,  like  a 
parrot:  "Ich  kann,  also  ich  muss."  ^  Every 
people,  which  is  united,  is  strong,  so  it  "can." 
And  certainly  the  German  people  "must,"  for 
this  is  an  old,  old  tradition  which  becomes, 
nowadays,  a  "modern-political"  habit.  In 
order  to  hinder  every  wrong  explanation  of 
this  device,  the  Kaiser  had  tirelessly  thrown 
in  the  eyes  of  his  people  the  patriotic  dust  of 
the  German  Pan-Germanism :  "  Deutschland 
Uber  alles!"  During  those  forty  years  of 
preparation  the  tool  was  well  sharpened  in 
the  hands  of  this  noble  master. 

Second,  the  organization  outside.  They 
married  their  belles  (certainly  a  pure-blooded 
nobility)  to  the  neighboring  czars,  emperors, 
and  kings.  (This  gift  of  pure-blooded  nobil- 
ity has  cost  the  Russian  nation  four  millions 
killed.)    These  "dames"  do  not  go  without 

*  I  can,  so  I  must. 

37 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


escorts,  so  they  took  with  them  a  flood  of 
barons,  counts,  teachers,  professors,  musi- 
cians, generals,  and  politicians.  Every  one  of 
these  had  his  personal,  public  duties  and  one 
secret  which  was  common.  Thus  the  "influ- 
ence" was  against  the  "influence." 

Third,  reorganization  outside.  They  sent 
their  members  (by  a  modern  political  rule  and 
"cultural  prestige")  to  foreign  countries  to 
be  kings  and  "rulers."  Ferdinand,  a  splendid 
member,  was  sent  to  Bulgaria.  The  German 
scholars  had  discovered  a  peculiar  equality, 
the  "Burger"  was  the  same  as  "petchalbar" 
—  the  tool  was  equal.  So  Ferdinand's  duty 
was  easy:  to  preserve  the  Bulgarian  people 
just  as  they  are  up  to  a  given  moment,  and 
during  all  this  time  to  sharpen  them  (Bragal- 
nitza  was  the  best  whetstone).  Only  here  the 
"dust"  was  "Velikata  Blgarska"  instead  of 
Pan -Germanism.  The  ruin  of  Serbia  proves 
that  Ferdinand  has  accomplished  his  task 
gloriously. 

And  thus  this  engine  was  built  and  per- 
fected. On  account  of  their  cowardice  and 
vileness,  it  was  necessary  that  this  engine  re- 
38 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


main  a  secret  until  it  was  complete  and  ready 
to  move.  Hence,  a  new  dust  must  be  found  to 
throw  into  the  eyes  of  all  the  world.  This  dust 
was  German  "Kultur,"  German  trade,  and 
German  industry,  all  under  the  protection  of 
"DeutschesVolks-Bank,"  whose  largest  share- 
holder was  Kaiser  Wilhelm. 

In  1908  the  engine  was  finished.  In  order 
to  test  its  efficiency,  the  late  Emperor,  Franz 
Josef,  the  second  head  of  the  aristocratic 
union,  announced  the  annexation  to  his  Em- 
pire of  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina,  two  of  the 
most  democratic  countries.  This  test  of  the 
secret  engine  was  again  secret,  hidden  under 
the  simple  business  of  an  "honest"  buyer  and 
an  "honest"  seller.  Europe  was  silent.  Then 
the  Kaiser  had  the  happiest  smile  in  his  life. 
"WTiy,  these  foolish  *plebs'  do  not  under- 
stand a  nobleman!"  he  said  one  day  to  his 
friends,  looking  at  the  brilliant  success  of  the 
test  of  the  secret  engine. 

In  1914  it  was  decided  to  make  the  general 
movement  of  the  engine :  for  two  reasons  — 
first,  that  the  secret  should  not  be  discovered 
(the  reason  was  the  new  French  and  Russian 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


military  law) ;  and  second,  that  the  engine  it- 
self should  not  get  rusty.  But  now  arose  a 
question:  Should  the  engine  be  moved  openly 
or  secretly?  For,  although  they  were  sure  of 
the  solidity  and  endurance  of  their  engine,  al- 
though the  tears  were  running  from  the  eyes 
of  the  German  people  because  of  the  Pan- 
Germanic  dust,  yet  these  noblemen  were 
scared,  lest  in  the  case  of  failure  ("  Oh,  God 
forbid  it !")  they  should  come  to  the  prisoner's 
dock.  They  knew  that  it  would  not  be  war 
between  states  and  states,  but  the  war  of  Pan- 
Germanism  against  the  whole  world,  the  war  of 
idea  against  idea,  the  war  of  tyranny  against 
liberty,  the  war  of  democracy  against  aris- 
tocracy. They  knew  how  very  dangerous  it 
was,  but  it  was  the  only  way  to  save  their 
noble  lives  (up  to  this  time  the  cost  had  been 
only  half  a  dozen  million  of  human  lives). 
They  knew  how  great  a  world-tragedy  it 
would  be,  for  which  a  reason  must  be  found. 
On  that  account  the  question,  —  openly,  as 
noblemen,  or  secretly,  as  cowards,  to  find  a 
"reason"  for  this  world-tragedy?  They  de- 
cided, secretly.  Now  they  need  a  reason. 
40 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


Where  is  it  to  be  found?  The  democracy,  all 
around,  had  lived  a  happy  life  in  liberty. 

Finally  the  diplomats  at  Ballplatz  and  Pots- 
dam ingeniously  invented  the  reason.  It  was 
ingenious,  simple,  and  natural:  a  democrat 
must  kill  a  member  of  their  society  whom 
they  will  avenge  by  smashing  the  democracy. 
But  where  to  find  a  victim  among  them,  and 
where  a  murderer?  The  victim  was  the  less 
important  thing  (for  they  are  so  many).  The 
chief  thing  was,  where  to  find  a  murderer,  and 
the  place  of  the  murder?  Where  will  it  be? 
Certainly  in  Serbia,  that  little  country,  their 
greatest  hindrance,  that  pearl  of  the  Slavs, 
that  "wild  people,"  that  "democratic  rag," 
that  gate  of  the  East,  that  undying  force,  that 
little  worm  which  is  gnawing  at  the  great 
tree.  Now  comes  the  height  of  aristocratic 
wildness.  Neither  had  their  aristocrat  known 
that  he  was  to  be  killed,  when  they  sent  him  to 
Serajevo,  nor  the  little  democrat  known, 
when  he  pointed  his  pistol  bravely  at  the 
breast  of  the  nobleman,  that  it  was  the  hand  of 
the  aristocrat  which  guided  him  (poor  Prinzip 
died  in  a  terrible  prison  when  he  saw  whose 
41 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


tool  he  had  been).  And  here  the  good  old 
experience  had  helped,  the  experience  ac- 
quired in  the  use  of  the  "dust."  The  dust 
which  was  thrown  in  the  eyes  of  this  poor  boy- 
was  "Veleeka  Srbija."  The  future  member 
of  this  new,  young,  and  democratic  state  had 
killed  the  nobleman,  the  future  ruler  of  an  old 
aristocratic  state. 

After  the  murder,  fire,  crying,  consterna- 
tion, regrets  and  tears  .  .  .  then  Serbia  was 
called  to  the  prisoner's  dock.  Haughty, 
swollen,  disdainful,  the  Teuton  aristocracy 
had  dragged  in  by  the  collar  the  "ragged, 
miserable  beggar."  And  without  waiting  for 
a  trial  they  hastened  to  smash  the  worm. 
Austria  declared  war  upon  Serbia.  And 
booming,  thundering,  shaking,  the  engine 
began  to  move. 

Then  Europe  struck  her  forehead.  The  na- 
tions started  and  began  to  think.  Serbia?  Wait 
.  .  .  that  little  country  which  was  enslaved 
for  five  centuries?  That  place  where  liberty 
was  the  most  glorified?  This  nation  which 
was  born  democratic?  The  creator  of  demo- 
cratic hymns?  And  now  they  want  to  de- 
42 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


stroy  it?  The  reason?  Ah  .  .  .  and  all  honest 
states  hastened  in  defense  of  Serbia.  And 
democracy,  in  its  power,  met  face  to  face  the 
aristocracy.  Thus  the  world  war  began.  In 
his  "burg"  before  the  map  of  the  world,  the 
Kaiser  said  despitef ully :  "Die,  rag!  For  a 
nobleman  is  born  to  rule  over  this  world." 

But  the  "rag"  became  legion,  noble  defend- 
ers of  their  noble  idea,  and  the  little  worm  be- 
came a  giant.  And,  after  one  year  of  work  by 
the  Kaiser's  engine,  "the  worm"  still  moved, 
this  democratic  nest  had  still  borne  its  little 
ones,  Serbia  still  lived.  And  in  his  rage,  feel- 
ing his  failure,  the  Kaiser,  with  his  "chosen 
people,"  exclaimed  one  day  with  incompa- 
rable brutality:  "Zerschmette  den  Wurm!"^ 

Ferdinand  bowed,  and  used  his  tool. 

Now,  because  of  that,  from  this  same  side, 
from  these  same  hills  and  valleys,  from  this 
same  people,  from  brothers,  from  Bulgaria, 
death  is  coming. 

Oh,  brother,  brother!  My  unhappy  blind 
brother,  have  you  thought  about  the  future? 
*     *     * 

i  Smash  the  worm ! 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


I  did  not  like  this  life  of  inaction,  because 
we  had  too  much  time  for  such  thoughts,  the 
thoughts  which  every  honest  man  despises, 
and  by  which  a  Serbian  becomes  insane,  or  is 
killed. 

Finally,  after  a  few  days  of  this  mental 
pain,  at  eleven  o'clock  before  noon,  the  12th 
of  October,  the  order  was  read  that  war  had 
been  declared.  The  Bulgarians,  taking  the 
other  knife  from  their  teeth,  had  openly 
avowed  for  the  first  time:  "Die,  brother!" 
(Many  and  many  of  God's  creatures  of  this 
land  had  whispered,  "Thank  you.")  Seeing 
that  the  Germans  and  Austrians  are  really 
progressing,  that  they  have  already  taken 
Belgrade,  Shabatz,  Smederevo,  Pojarevatz, 
that  the  Teutonic  iron  and  steel  —  the  best 
product  of  their  culture  —  had  encircled  Ser- 
bia on  two  sides,  the  Bulgarians  hastened  to 
fill  in  on  the  third  side.  Easy  job,  gentlemen? 
Goethe  and  Vassov  had  written  about  this? 

Just  as  we  went  back  to  the  trenches  after 
this  order  was  read  to  us,  Spale  pulled  at  my 
sleeve. 

"Strange  thing!"  he  said,  laughing. 
44 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


"What?"  I  asked  seriously,  for  I  was  in  no 
mood  for  joking. 

"Imagine  this  was  the  overture  of  an 
opera  .  .  ." 

"Certainly  a  beautiful  piece!" 

"All  depends  on  the  composer!  But,  any- 
way, it  is  already  played.  Now  the  curtain  is 
rising.  On  the  stage  Mephistopheles,  Faust, 
and  Marguerite  ..." 

"And  the  new  writer  of  this  old  libretto?" 
I  fell  in,  against  my  will. 

"Old  Goethe  .  .  ." 

"Goethe?" 

"Excuse  me,  I  have  to  explain.  The  genius 
of  Goethe  knew  the  German  people.  He 
knew  that  the  whole  psychology  of  the  Teu- 
tonic tribes  was  Mephistophelian  philosophy. 
For  at  the  very  beginning  of  his  work  he  had, 
in  a  letter  written  to  his  sister  (certainly  in 
French),  asked  himself  very  seriously,  should 
he  become  'en  diogen'?  And  later,  he  made 
one  of  his  most  exact  conclusions :  my  people 
are  wild,  culture  will  make  them  crude.  In 
order  to  hinder  that,  he  wrote  his  'Faust,'  the 
work,  which  through  the  long  chain  of  years 
45 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


has  interested  the  brain  of  the  whole  world, 
which  sought  an  explanation:  the  European 
war  has  come  to  give  one  of  the  most  correct. 
As  I  have  said,  Goethe  had  known  the 
Mephistophelian  spirit  of  the  German  nation, 
and  feeling  its  disastrous  power,  he,  the  good 
teacher,  wrote  'Faust,'  as  the  best  example 
of  the  horror.  The  Teutons,  haughty  and  fool- 
ish, born  with  this  devil,  have  taken  Goethe's 
work  as  the  way.  This  way  has  brought  them 
to  this  day,  to  the  stage  of  which  the  Kaiser  is 
the  manager.  The  Teutonic  nation  is  Meph- 
istopheles,  Bulgaria,  Faust,  and  the  Democ- 
racy, Marguerite  (on  this  stage,  Serbia). 
Beautiful  cast!  Eh!  Dissatisfied  with  the 
*weak'  Gounod,  the  Kaiser  gave  the  libretto 
and  baton  into  the  hand  of  Krupp.  Look  out, 
Mr.  Leader  is  holding  that  little  baton  in  the 
air.  The  opera  will  begin  any  minute,"  ended 
Spale,  laughing. 

I  looked  at  him.  How  fine  and  handsome 
this  man  was !  The  speaking  face,  burned  by 
the  sun  and  wind,  expressed  his  unique  spirit, 
will,  and  energy.  The  beautiful,  dreamy  eyes 
full  of  love  and  all  his  flexible,  perfect  figure 
46 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


bursting  forth  with  youth,  strength,  and  life. 
How  I  loved  this  friend  of  mine!  I  loved  his 
keen  thought,  his  vivid,  powerful  spirit,  his 
divine  art,  his  golden  heart,  his  youth,  his 
whole  life,  his  friendship. 

God!  If  he  be  killed.''  again  darted  through 
my  head.  More  than  a  hundred  times  this 
thought  returned  to  my  brain  with  still  more 
and  more  torture. 

Although  from  the  time  we  came  to  the 
trenches  we  were  watchful,  although  our  guns 
were  always  ready  standing  in  the  loopholes, 
orders  now  came  that  we  must  not  sit  down. 
The  soldiers,  leaning  against  the  walls  of  the 
trench,  looked  silently  through  the  holes. 

Beginning!  Is  this  land  really  beginning  to 
perish.?  And  help?  Seven  days  ago,  after  the 
terrible  night  when  Belgrade  had  fallen,  the 
happiest  news  came  to  us  with  the  rising  of 
the  sun.  The  French  were  coming !  Nish  was 
decorated  with  French  and  Serbian  flags  in 
their  honor.  The  whole  country  shouted  in 
happiness.  Serbia  was  proud  and  dignified,  for 
she  took  France  to  her  heart.  The  word  came 
that  the  first  regiments  would  take  positions 
47 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


around  Pirot.  We  were  foolish  with  happiness. 
Are  the  sons  of  our  other  country  really  com- 
ing here?  Here,  beside  us?  "Poilu"  beside 
the  Serbian  "ratnik"!  Oh,  my  God!  It  would 
be  too  good!  Really  will  the  spirit  of  the 
"Marseillaise"  rhyme  with  the  Serbian  po- 
etry? Really  are  the  sons  of  Robespierre, 
Danton,  Camille  Dtsmoulins,  —  are  the  sons 
of  Victor  Hugo  and  Beranger  really  coming 
to  the  Serbian  barricades?  The  grenadiers 
from  Wagram  and  Austerlitz?  It  seemed  to 
us  that  already  we  heard  the  magnificent  and 
thunderous  hymn  which  shakes  the  hoary 
mountains:  "Allons,  enfants!"  It  seemed  to 
us  that  already  we  saw  their  thick  columns 
coming  down  the  Toorsko  Livadje  with  a 
tremendous  cheering:  "Aux  armes  mes  cit- 
oyens!"  We  felt  already  the  clasp  of  their 
manly  hands,  their  power,  friendship,  and 
love,  and  the  poilu's  words  spoken  in  his  way 
sounded  already  in  our  ears:  "Nous  les 
aurons,  quand-meme!"  We  shivered  with 
emotion  and  happiness.  Our  hearts  were 
bursting  from  our  breasts,  and  our  whole 
being  poured  out:  "Vive  la  France!" 
48 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


Now,  alone,  silently  we  were  waiting  for 
our  tragedy.  A  bitter  pride,  a  steely  manli- 
ness, a  foolish  pleasure,  and  an  irresistible 
desire  for  death  were  in  the  midst  of  this  black 
destiny.  Yet  some  of  the  soldiers  would 
tremble  with  hope,  for  still  the  words  are 
being  whispered:  "The  French  are  coming! 
The  French  are  coming!" 

About  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  some- 
where in  the  distance,  from  the  left  side,  boom- 
ing began.  Then,  immediately,  from  the 
right.  From  this  moment  the  booming  came 
nearer,  more  distinct,  harsh  and  terrible  fir- 
ing. Soon,  it  seemed  to  me  as  if  all  the  devil- 
ish powers  were  making  the  effort  to  break 
down  the  gates  of  hell.  Then  our  cannon 
stormed  thunder.  The  earth  shook,  the  air 
was  filled  with  crashing.  The  fire,  steel,  and 
hatred  are  creeping  along  every  ridge  of  this 
land. 

At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  first 
cannon  turned  toward  our  positions.  The  rag- 
ing and  whistling  shells  flew  against  Strashna- 
Chooka,  crashing  the  stones  which  rolled  into 
the  valley.  Waiting  for  a  long  time  for  the 
49 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


delight  of  the  first  shots,  our  artillery  (two 
batteries  which  were  far  behind  our  trenches) 
began  to  fire.  The  shells  flew  over  our  heads 
with  hissing  speed.  Oh,  good  old  sound!  In 
the  beginning,  like  a  thunderous  oo,  and  then 
more  and  more  thin,  finally  to  end  in  a  weak 
boom.  The  Bulgarian  artillery  tried  to  find 
ours :  an  opposing  oo  with  thunder  at  its  end. 
Soon  it  became  a  general  chaos  of  the  air. 

"They  think  to  make  a  short  job!"  said 
Cheda  coolly. 

"At  least  they  are  hoping!"  I  said,  shiver- 
ing with  emotion  in  those  first  moments  of 
battle. 

After  half  an  hour  of  this  dreadful  booming, 
suddenly  a  thick  black  smoke  arose  behind  a 
green  hill  far  in  the  valley,  then  a  powerful 
detonation. 

"Bravo!  Ours  have  set  fire  in  their  am- 
munition wagon,"  exclaimed  the  soldiers 
laughing. 

The  Bulgarians,  in  revenge,  doubled  their 

fire:  now  with  a  better  method.    One  part 

was  directed  on  our  position  and  Tzarev-Vrh, 

and  the  other  kept  up  its  rapidity,  still  seek- 

50 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


ing  our  battery.  It  began  to  grow  serious. 
The  soldiers  drew  their  heads  down  into  their 
shoulders,  bowed  and  grasped  their  guns  con- 
vulsively. The  shells  were  exploding  every- 
where around  the  trench. 

Yet  through  this  booming  we  heard  dis- 
tinctly, dry  and  clear-cut,  uncountable,  tcJc, 
tckf  tck. 

"Our  advance  post  is  firing.  The  Bulga- 
rians are  attacking!  Look  out!"  exclaimed 
Cheda. 

I  ran  to  the  captain  who  had  chosen  my 
trench  to  be  in  during  the  battle  because  it  was 
in  the  middle.  At  this  moment  he  was  speak- 
ing over  the  telephone  with  our  advance  post, 
which  was  within  five  hundred  metres  of  our 
main  position :  — 

"From  the  right  side  of  the  village.^  Good. 
In  case  of  need  you  will  retreat  as  I  said." 

I  looked  over  the  parapet.  Nothing  but 
smoke  was  to  be  seen.  The  firing  of  our  ad- 
vance post  had  doubled.  The  captain  did  not 
look  away  from  this  side.  Suddenly  the  sol- 
diers began  to  move,  and  steady  themselves. 
The  captain  grasped  the  telephone. 
51 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"Fourth  Battery!  Fourth!  The  direction 
slanting  Rajana,  right  of  the  village.  Try 
with  thirty-four  hundred  metres.   Hurry." 

When  I  looked  over  the  parapet  again,  far 
into  the  valley,  the  slope  of  the  green  hill 
which  was  level  against  the  sky  was  now  ir- 
regular with  human  beings.  Something  black 
and  ugly.  Something  which  jumped  from  bush 
to  stone  like  a  frog. 

"Bulgarians!"  was  shouted  here  and  there. 

A  minute  after,  our  artillery  poured  its 
fire  there.  The  captain  with  glance  fixed  upon 
the  valley  directed  with  the  telephone.  The 
Bulgarians,  in  order  to  assure  their  attack, 
had  directed  all  their  cannon  on  our  trenches. 
Horrors!  Everything  around  us  was  broken, 
crushed,  and  smashed.  We  grew  deaf.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  earth  had  lifted  into  the  air. 
The  soldiers  began  to  fall.  In  the  midst  of 
thunder  and  chaos,  human  screams  more  ter- 
rible than  both.  The  irregular  lines  came 
closer  and  closer.  The  new  lines  at  the  top 
appeared  and  disappeared  again  and  again. 
Our  machine  guns  began  to  fire.  The  air  was 
vibrant,  the  earth  shivered,  the  walls  of  the 
52 


THE   FALL  OF  NISH 


trench  fell,  burying  the  legs.  Everything  was 
boiling.  A  few  minutes  later,  my  captain 
touched  my  shoulder  and  said :  — 

"It  is  time!" 

I  ran  to  one  side  of  the  trench  and  Cheda  to 
the  other.  The  soldiers,  who  alone  knew  the 
"moment,"  were  ready. 

"Quick  firing!  Eight  hundred  metres! 
Eight  hundred  .  .  ." 

The  heads  bowed,  the  faces  showed  in  the 
loopholes.  They  began.  It  was  as  if  tumult 
rode  on  the  back  of  horror. 

From  this  time  our  guns  never  grew  cold. 


For  five  days  we  fought  without  stopping. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  those  days, 
where  every  moment  created  new  wonders, 
new  horrors,  new  impossibilities,  which  only  at 
the  cost  of  our  own  blood  were  overcome.  Dur- 
ing the  days  we  were  fighting,  shooting  end- 
lessly, —  blinding,  deafening,  falling,  scream- 
ing, killing  .  .  .  During  the  night  we  worked : 
a  feverish  work:  the  work  of  a  soldier  and  a 
man,  for  we  were  still  human  beings.  In  these 
53 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


hours  of  darkness  the  soldiers  with  shovels 
and  picks  repaired  that  which  was  destroyed 
during  the  day;  then  they  took  out  empty 
ammunition  cases  and  replaced  them  with 
full ;  the  broken  wires  of  the  telephones  were 
repaired;  the  seriously  wounded  soldiers  were 
carried  away.  Then  they  helped  the  men  of 
the  machine  guns  to  build  new  fortifications, 
for  the  positions  had  to  be  changed  each  night 
because  of  the  enemy's  artillery.  The  guns 
were  cleaned  by  sense  of  touch.  The  senti- 
nels of  the  advance  posts  were  exchanged. 
And  all  this  without  a  word,  without  a  sound. 
There  are  men  who  did  not  speak  for  five 
days. 

Then  we  would  satisfy  all  our  human  needs. 
When  we  finished  everything,  then  we  would 
eat.  Julock  would  distribute  the  loaves  of 
bread  and  cold  meat:  this  was  all.  Bowed, 
sitting  close  to  each  other,  on  the  earth  of  the 
trench,  in  darkness,  we  ate  our  food  without 
even  a  knife.  One  would  suddenly  grow 
weak,  letting  the  bread  fall  from  his  hand  into 
the  dirt.  Finally,  deadly  weariness  had  con- 
quered the  human  being.  And  sitting,  with 
54 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


face  leaning  against  the  wet,  rough  earth,  with 
open  mouth,  he  would  remain  there  motionless, 
dead  until  somebody  whispered:  "Get  up!" 

This  night,  the  sixth  one  since  the  battle 
began,  again  came  my  turn  to  go  to  the  ad- 
vance post,  —  "dead  sentinel"  as  we  call  it, 
—  only  three  hundred  metres  from  the  enemy. 
It  is  the  soldier's  sense  of  smell,  the  soldier's 
nerve,  which  feels  the  slightest  movement  of 
the  enemy.  In  the  case  of  sudden  attack  at 
night,  the  "dead  sentinel"  dies  to  save  the 
others. 

"Alive,  my  good  one?"  I  exclaimed  to 
Spale  whom  I  had  to  replace,  and  who  had 
been  the  whole  day  at  the  advance  post  in  a 
terrible  battle.  I  was  worried  all  the  afternoon, 
for  at  noon  the  telephone  connection  was 
broken,  so  that  we  could  not  get  any  news, 
and  because  of  the  terrain  the  little  trenches 
of  the  advance  post  could  not  be  seen  from 
Dobra-Glava. 

"Alive,  certainly!"  exclaimed  Spale,  grasp- 
ing my  hands. 

"Who  was  killed?  "  I  threw  out  this  eternal, 
painful  question. 

65 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"Jare  and  Speera.  Poor  men,  they  were 
killed  last  night  when  they  replaced  each 
other  in  the  sentinel's  line,  down  in  that  little 
valley.  Although  both  were  very  careful,  be- 
ing at  the  most  dangerous  place,  yet  they  were 
killed  because  of  the  moonlight.  You  will  see 
later  that  it  is  light  as  the  day.  The  worst  is 
that  *they'  agairi  will  not  dare  to  gather  and 
bury  their  dead  because  of  that  moonlight. 
The  little  valley  is  full  of  them.  To-day  they 
left  eleven  corpses.  As  you  can  see,  not  the 
most  desirable  part  of  this  neighborhood." 

"Not  the  most.  But  I  do  not  care,  thanks 
to  the  old  rule  of  war:  the  nerves  are  first 
killed,  and  then  the  body." 

"You  are  an  exception,"  said  Spale,  laugh- 
ing. Then  he  looked  around  and  sighed 
deeply.  "Again  there  will  be  a  beautiful 
night.  How  divine  are  these  nights !  Just  be- 
cause they  are  between  those  horrors  .  .  .  but 
I  am  on  my  way.  I  have  to  go.  Good-bye, 
and  take  care  of  yourself,"  he  said  in  a  voice 
full  of  emotion,  pressed  for  the  last  time  my 
hand,  and  went  into  the  darkness.  His  sol- 
diers crept  after  him. 

56 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


About  midnight  the  full  moon  shone  just 
over  my  head,  smiling  with  her  bright,  good- 
natured  face.  I  was  lying  outside  the  trench 
in  the  thick,  deep,  dry  grass.  God,  what  a 
night !  At  her  parting,  the  goddess  of  fruit  and 
autumn,  for  the  last  time,  kissed  the  earth 
with  her  most  beautiful  caress.  Now  there 
were  many  tears  mingled  with  this  caress. 
Complete  silence  reigned.  Nothing  moved. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  if  a  tender,  unseen  hand 
had  spread  a  golden  white  silken  cover  over 
those  hills,  stones,  ruins,  corpses,  and  blood, 
and,  hiding  them,  had  transformed  all  into  a 
mystic  dream  of  beauty.  I  was  in  a  waking 
dream.  It  was  so  warm,  mild,  soft,  tender,  and 
sweet.  My  breast  had  gratefully  taken  the 
fresh,  perfumed  air  after  the  dust  and  smoke 
of  the  day.  My  glance  wandered  over  the 
sky,  in  which  the  big  stars  shone  beside  the 
moon,  or  it  sped  here  and  there  through 
the  blue-black  ether.  The  little  white  clouds 
darted  around  the  moon,  covering  it  play- 
fully, as  little  children  around  their  grand- 
mother. The  river  which  flowed  through  the 
valley  murmured  a  sad  mystic  air. 
57 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


And  everywhere  around  me  from  the  earth 
there  came  little  sweet  notes  which  mingled 
in  an  exquisite  hum.  The  whole  of  this  little 
uncounted  world,  which  lives  in  the  grass  and 
earth,  all  of  those  millions  of  little  beings, 
frightened  by  the  daily  horror,  are  now  whis- 
pering, asking  themselves.  Will  it  come  again? 
Or,  perhaps,  they  complained  and  wept  for 
their  brothers  who  were  killed.  Oh,  how 
beautiful  and  sweet  was  the  sorrow  of  this 
little  people!  It  reminded  me  of  an  old  Tus- 
can cloister  full  of  peace,  twilight,  and  per- 
fume, in  which  hovered  the  divine  organ 
music.  Yes,  it  was  the  night  for  prayer.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  all  those  armies,  divided 
by  this  beauty  of  the  night,  again  became  in- 
dividuals, as  men  silently  gazing,  they  opened 
their  hearts,  looked  upon  the  horrors  they 
have  made,  shivering  at  the  thought  that 
when  the  day  comes  they  must  plunge  again 
into  murder  and  blood. 

"Fly  in!"  Cheda  exclaimed  again  from  the 
trench.  "Can  you  not  see  that  this  is  like  the 
day?  They  will  kill  you  like  a  cat.  And  that 
with  a  stone,  it  is  so  near.'* 
58 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


I  did  not  listen  to  him.  I  heard  only  the 
word  "killed."  Killed!  Can  anybody,  in  this 
beautiful  night,  even  think  of  murder  .^^  In  this 
night  when  heaven  has  bent  so  near  this 
earth;  in  this  night,  when  the  soul  is  full  of 
dreams,  and  the  heart  so  full  of  love?  This 
night  is  created  for  love  and  goodness.  It  is 
created  for  confession.  When  every  atom  of 
this  gigantic  nature  is  full  of  goodness  and 
love,  then  one's  heart  grows  soft,  and  the 
confession  of  a  heavy  sin  could  more  easily  go 
out  from  a  tortured  breast.  Yet  my  thoughts 
fled  far,  far  into  the  blue  dreams  seeking  the 
places  which  were  sometimes  the  lap  of  the 
happiness  of  life. 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  this  silence,  this 
beauty,  in  the  midst  of  this  sweet,  tender, 
chanting  music,  a  voice,  a  song!  A  beautiful 
manly  voice  on  the  Bulgarian  side  is  softly 
and  sadly  singing  a  song.  My  God,  a  Bul- 
garian is  singing !  My  whole  being,  intoxicated 
by  the  sweetness  of  this  night,  now  fell  into 
such  an  emotion  under  the  influence  of  this 
voice,  this  song,  that  I  became  oblivious  of 
place  and  reality.  Slowly  I  raised  myself,  sat 
59 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


down,  and,  shivering,  I  drank  in  the  wonder- 
ful tones.  What  a  song!  Do  I  dream?  The 
sweet  vibration  of  the  song,  tenderly  mingling 
with  the  music  in  the  atmosphere,  over- 
whelmed me  more  and  more. 

Presently  the  song  became  stronger,  clearer, 
more  passionate,  more  emotional,  a  song  full 
of  tears  which  had  to  come  from  a  martyr's 
breast. 

Then  I  grasped  the  words:  "Oh,  where  are 
you,  moments  of  my  happy  dreams?'* 

*'La  Tosca!"  I  exclaimed  loudly.  A  Mario 
in  his  last  moments,  in  a  sea  of  most  dreadful 
human  unhappiness,  in  darkness,  between 
four  walls,  feeling  the  sigh  of  the  dead  instead 
of  the  embrace  of  happy  love,  seeks,  with  the 
last  shriek  of  his  heart,  his  happy  dreams !  The 
dreams  of  love!  And  this  Mario  now  is  a  Bul- 
garian! A  traitor,  murderer!  No,  no,  I  can- 
not believe  it !  And  yet  the  song  hovered  con- 
stantly, more  and  more  beautiful  and  more 
and  more  sad.  It  was  ringing  like  a  confes- 
sion, a  confession  spoken  in  the  most  solemn 
moment  of  a  life  in  a  most  touching  manner, 
with  the  divine  language  of  music,  the  music 
60 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


which  moved  the  most  stony  heart  with  emo- 
tion. 

"What  desires  this  man,  this  unhappy 
heart,  this  Bulgarian?"  I  asked  myself.  I 
felt  a  powerful  struggle  which  surged  more 
and  more  through  my  being.  I  can  never 
psychologically  explain  those  moments.  They 
were  too  strong,  too  sudden,  too  unexpected. 
I  felt  only  as  if  a  strange  power  had  risen, 
with  a  dreadful  right,  in  my  soul,  to  destroy 
the  song,  this  confession  of  a  murderer,  this 
sacrilege  of  the  last  beauty  of  a  Serbian  dream. 

"It  is  not  Mario!  Lie,  lie!"  was  ringing 
somewhere  around  me.  And  yet  my  heart,  in 
extremely  emotional,  painful  throbs,  drew  me 
toward  this  voice,  this  song,  this  man,  mourn- 
fully crying:  "Brother,  brother!  Perhaps  the 
only  one!" 

Something  snapped  within  me,  and  sud- 
denly, without  knowing  myself  how,  under 
the  pressure  of  a  strong  bitterness,  pain,  and 
sadness,  the  hopeless  answer  came  from  my 
breast:  "And  never  the  moment  of  happiness 
will  come  again!" 

When  the  last  notes  of  the  song  died,  the 
61 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


silence  of  a  tomb  fell.  I  did  not  know  myself. 
Why  was  I  so  cruel?  Perhaps  it  was  really  a 
brother.  The  brother  who  had  been  waiting 
for  forty  years  for  the  Serbian  embrace.  Per- 
haps he  is  the  only  one  who,  under  the  dread- 
ful sin  and  misery  of  his  nation,  under  the 
slavery  and  unhappiness  of  his  people,  in  this 
wonderful  night  has  been  awakened  by  a 
higher  spirit  and  seeks  forgiveness.  Forgive- 
ness! Is  it  possible,  is  it  attainable?  His 
father  and  his  brother  will  kill  my  mother  and 
sister  to-morrow  and  drag  out  the  Serbian 
heart.  The  work  has  only  begun  and  is  not 
yet  finished.  When  it  is  done,  then  perhaps 
the  dead  ones,  the  ruins  will  forgive  .  .  .  then 
perhaps  .  .  . 

"Ma,  forgive  me,  bratko!"^  came  again  in 
the  bright  and  quiet  night,  so  sad  and  so 
tenderly.  A  Bulgarian  is  begging  for  for- 
giveness, freed  by  the  irresistible  spirit  of  this 
beautiful  night.  Being  freed  from  Gessler's 
claws,  the  Bulgarian  soldier,  again  a  man,  a 
free  being,  with  deadly  horror  measured  the 

*  A  national  Macedonian  song  of  the  allied  Serbian  and  Bul- 
garian komitajic. 

62 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


weight  of  his  sin,  and  so,  perhaps,  for  the  first 
and  last  time,  falls  on  his  knees  before  the 
dying  people  which  he  had,  only  a  few  hours 
ago,  nailed  on  the  cross. 

"Forgive  me,  bratko!"  Again  those  cries 
fled  through  the  silent  night  seeking  answer. 
I  suffered  terribly.  Unhappiness,  pain,  horror 
gathered  slowly  in  the  human  heart,  crowd- 
ing it  with  an  indescribable  pressure.  Yet 
they  do  not  burn,  they  do  not  destroy  the 
soul.  For  a  sudden  little  moment  can  create 
this.  In  this  moment  I  was  now.  The  song, 
this  spark,  had  set  on  fire  the  unhappiness 
of  my  soul.  I  no  longer  realized  what  was 
happening  around  me.  I  entirely  forgot  the 
place  in  which  I  was.  I  was  standing  at  full 
height  forgetting  my  danger.  Something  drew 
me  forward  toward  the  voice,  the  song.  Here 
was  another  unhappy  one,  and,  perhaps,  an 
embrace.  My  trembling  legs  made  a  few 
steps.  Cheda  jumped  to  my  side. 

"Unhappy  one,   where.'^    Bulgarian  lie!" 
harshly  said  this  old  warrior,  whose  bitter 
experience  spoke  rightly,  this  unhappy  Ser- 
bian who  knew  full  well  the  reality, 
63 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


This  brought  me  to  my  senses.  I  stooped 
unwillingly.  The  song  had  died  away.  The 
beauty  of  the  night  had  changed  into  reality, 
the  light  of  the  moon  cruelly  showed  the  hor- 
ror around  me,  and  suddenly  I  saw  clearly 
the  masses  of  the  dead  spreading  on  all  sides. 
The  flame  of  unhappiness  which  had  burned 
for  a  moment  in  my  soul  had  destroyed  my 
feelings.  There  was  left  only  the  thought,  the 
brain,  the  cold  judge  who  pitilessly  tore  into 
the  ruins  and  wounds  of  a  heart. 

"Yes,  yes,  my  unhappy  brother,"  I  thought 
as  I  looked  into  this  valley  of  the  dead,  "the 
blood  between  you  and  me,  the  blood  of  our 
fathers,  the  black  precipice  of  hate  created 
by  the  *  foreign  influence,'  does  not  permit  us 
to  embrace  each  other.  Unhappy  man!  You 
are  more  unhappy  than  myself,  for  to-mor- 
row when  you  rejoice  over  the  victory,  you 
will  know  that  you  are  celebrating  it  with  the 
price  of  bought  souls,  and  with  an  eternal 
sign  of  treachery  on  your  forehead  before  God 
and  men.  You  will  know  when  you  take  the 
Serbian  heart  in  'glorious'  victory,  you,  born 
democrat,  will  meet  face  to  face  with  an  aris- 
64 


THE   FALL  OF  NISH 


tocrat,  who  will  throw  you  on  your  knees  to 
lick  his  feet.  Miserable  brother,  I  like  better 
my  tragedy  than  your  victory." 

Slowly  I  went  down  into  the  trench  and  re- 
mained quiet  the  entire  night  with  my  fore- 
head on  my  knees.  "  My  only  brother ! "  came 
often  into  my  mind  like  a  sad  shadow,  "^^^lat 
a  misery  of  time!  Man  alone,  democrat  and 
brother,  in  a  mass,  murderer  and  slave  of  aris- 
tocrats." 

The  next  day  there  was  a  dreadful  battle. 
At  the  north  Petrovatz  had  fallen.  The  Ser- 
bians were  now  attacked  directly  in  the  back. 
The  Bulgarians  were  advancing  from  Nego- 
tin.  Their  dream  of  connecting  themselves 
with  the  Germans  was  now  realized.  Intox- 
icated by  this  news  and  with  brandy,  they 
made  foolish,  stormy  assaults,  sowing  per- 
sistently the  corpses  to  the  glory  of  the  Kai- 
ser. In  the  morning  I  had  to  retreat  to  the 
main  position.  During  the  day  the  Bulga- 
rians stormed  seven  times  through  the  valley 
and,  decimated,  fled  howling  back.  Finally, 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  fourth  com- 
pany of  my  battalion,  supported  by  our  fire 
65 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


and  the  machine  guns,  made  an  assault  and 
cleared  out  the  whole  terrain  up  to  the  border. 
Spale  went  with  soldiers  to  retake  our  ad- 
vance post. 

The  next  night,  twenty-four  hours  after, 
Spale  returned,  came  to  my  trench,  and  gave 
me  a  card. 

"When  we  were  coming  back  from  our  ad- 
vance post  we  found  an  officer  who  had  been 
killed.  His  chest  was  like  a  sieve  from  bullets. 
Beside  other  things  we  found  his  'carte  de 
visite.'  " 

I  took  the  card,  lit  a  match,  and  read: 
"Mircha  Traichev,  Cand.    Phil.  —  Paris." 

"France  brought  him  up!"  I  exclaimed. 

"Yes.  Certainly  he  was  your  brother  about 
whom  you  told  me.  Maybe,  perhaps,  you 
killed  him,"  said  Spale. 

"Maybe,"  I  scarcely  whispered. 


We  have  been  since  yesterday  in  the  regi- 
ment's reserve. 

The  third  company  had  replaced  us  after 
eight  days  of  battle.  On  this  occasion  we  saw 
66 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


Bata,  who  was  in  that  company,  and  who, 
when  he  saw  us  alive  and  well,  jumped  for 
joy.  As  much  as  he  was  joyful,  so  we  were 
sad,  for  now  had  come  the  time  for  him  to  go 
down  into  the  "hole." 

In  that  time  the  reserve  was  considered  a 
rest.  Rest!  Should  such  a  word  be  spoken 
nowadays?  A  single  company  in  reserve  for 
a  regiment  which  was  spread  over  a  stretch 
of  eight  miles!  And  what  a  terrain,  too!  If 
there  is  danger  for  Strashna-Chooka  we  must 
run  to  help  for  more  than  six  miles  over  terri- 
ble hills  of  sharp  stones  and  cliffs.  And  if  the 
Bulgarians,  in  order  to  surround  my  entire 
regiment,  menace  Odorovski-Prelaz,  the  pass 
of  Veedlich,  we  had  to  fly  right  toward  the 
sky;  and  after  such  a  run  immediately  go  into 
battle.  Beautiful  prospect! 

Added  to  all  this  the  rain  began  to  fall,  the 
cold  and  endless  rain  of  autumn.  That  night 
was  the  last  of  the  fair  weather.  Among  these 
mountains  there  is  no  slow,  mild  change  from 
summer  to  winter.  Yesterday  morning  all  the 
peaks  around  were  dressed  in  white  covers. 
On  the  heights  snow,  and  in  the  valley  rain. 
67 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


Winter!  The  winter  was  coming,  and  its 
hardships  completed  the  national  tragedy. 
The  source  of  sickness  and  hunger  had  opened 
its  crater,  pouring  its  poison  over  the  un- 
happy ones. 

We  set  up  our  tents  in  a  small  field  near 
the  village  church.  The  heavy  rain  poured  un- 
ceasingly. One  could  scarcely  move  through 
the  deep  mud.  Added  to  all  our  other  bur- 
dens we  had  twenty  more  pounds  to  carry  on 
our  boots  after  a  few  steps.  The  soldiers  were 
sitting  under  the  tents  close  to  each  other,  in 
full  equipment,  with  their  guns  across  their 
laps,  for  any  moment  the  order  might  come  to 
go.  Or  they  were  gathered  around  the  big 
kettle  in  which  the  cooks  had  prepared  the 
dinner,  or  warmed  themselves  around  the  fire, 
breathing  the  hot  steam  of  the  food.  They 
were  happy  because,  perhaps,  to-day  they  will 
have  something  hot. 

The  captain,  Spale,  and  I  went  inside  a 
near-by  house  to  find  shelter  from  the  rain 
and  to  "sleep."  The  house  had  only  one  room 
with  an  ogneeshte  —  fireplace  —  in  the  mid- 
dle of  it.  Over  the  fireplace,  a  large  hole  full 
68 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


of  ashes,  was  a  big  dark  chimney  full  of 
smoked  meat.  An  old  woman  was  sitting  in 
a  corner  of  the  fireplace,  silent,  motionless. 
Her  face  was  covered  with  black  wrinkles 
and  her  bare  feet  were  in  the  ashes.  She  was 
the  only  protector  of  the  house  and  sheep 
(the  inhabitants  of  this  mountainous  region 
live  exclusively  on  sheep).  The  other  mem- 
bers of  the  family,  women  and  children,  had 
fled,  and  the  men  were  in  the  military  service. 
The  sheep,  for  there  was  no  one  to  take  them 
to  the  pastures,  were  crowded  in  the  back 
yard,  wet  through  and  through,  and  steam- 
ing from  their  own  heat.  They  were  bleating 
sadly,  seeking  their  food  and  liberty. 

When  we  came  to  the  village  (Rjana)  which 
the  staff  of  the  regiment  still  occupied,  we 
again  heard  black  news.  The  Bulgarians  had 
taken  Zajechar.  Now  they  were  connected 
with  the  German  armies;  both  were  advancing 
rapidly,  using  the  parallel  strategic  flank 
movements.  German  cannon  and  ammuni- 
tion had  been  brought  to  the  entire  Bulgarian 
front.  The  Austrians  had  taken  Rudnik  and 
were  menacing  Kragujevatz.  The  people 
69 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


were  flying  from  everywhere.  Hunger  began 
to  manifest  itself.  Typhus  was  again  raging. 
Yet  our  armies  were  retreating  in  good  order, 
setting  on  fire  and  destroying  everything, 
doing  heroic  work  in  order  to  gain  time  to 
allow  the  people  to  fly.  Where?  Destiny  re- 
plied, when  after  one  month  they  struck  with 
their  foreheads  the  frozen  stones  of  Albania. 
The  general  impression  was  that  the  armies 
around  Pirot  had  to  maintain  their  position 
at  any  cost  to  prevent  the  armies  from  the 
north  reaching  the  same  height  (Nish),  so 
that  the  danger  of  being  surrounded  would 
cease.  Would  we  succeed  in  this.^^ 

To-day  the  Bulgarians  had  left  our  posi- 
tions in  peace.  For  the  last  two  days  a  great 
change  had  been  evident  in  the  tactics  of 
the  Bulgarians;  while  before,  they  were  as- 
saulting as  if  insane,  losing  their  lives  like 
chaff  in  an  attempt  to  seize  Basarski-Kamen 
through  the  valley,  howling  like  beasts  for 
this  key  of  the  gate  of  Nish;  yet  in  spite  of 
their  wild  heroism  they  had  not  gained  a  single 
foot.  Now  they  left  the  valley  and  struck  in 
another  way:  over  Batooshin,  to  take  Odo- 
70 


THE   FALL  OF  NISH 


rovski  Pass,  surround  my  regiment,  and  ad- 
vancing over  Veedlich,  hold  the  whole  Sec- 
ond Army  in  checkmate.  It  could  be  seen  at 
once  that  the  German  strategists  (really  the 
summa  summarum  of  their  Kultur)  were  di- 
recting the  wildness  of  the  foolish  Bulgarians. 
While  before,  their  artillery  was  a  joke  to  us, 
now  it  became  perfect.  Krupp's  pupils  were 
now  playing  on  these  instruments.  And  with 
these  weapons  they  began  to  carry  out  their 
new  plan.  The  valley  was  quiet,  but  at  Veed- 
lich, high  up  toward  the  sky,  there  was  fury. 
And  sitting  beside  a  fire  we  looked  through  the 
open  door  at  this  storm  over  the  white  peaks. 

"Will  the  Twentieth  Regiment  hold  out. 5^" 
Spale  broke  the  silence. 

"WTiat's  the  use.?"  said  Cheda  bitterly. 

"To  get  time,  fool  that  you  are,  to  save  the 
other  armies  and  the  people.  We  are  to  be 
killed,"  said  the  captain  darkly.  He  was  sit- 
ting beside  the  fire  breathing  heavily  and 
painfully.  Once  in  a  while  he  coughed.  A 
dreadful  rattling,  a  terrible  noise,  came  from 
his  breast.  God !  how  that  man  had  suffered ! 
When  he  coughed,  the  old  woman  would  stir 
71 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


a  little  in  her  stiffness,  lift  her  head,  look  upon 
him  long  and  silently,  turn  her  contorted  face 
toward  him  with  eyes  from  which  the  light 
had  gone  out.  Then  she  would  slowly  bow  her 
head  and  sigh:  "Ey!  kookoo  mene!" 

Outside  the  night  began  to  fall.  The  rain 
had  doubled  in  intensity  and  was  raging.  At 
Veedlich  the  battle  still  thundered.  We  were 
silent,  while  the  fire  crackled;  its  flame  made 
large,  mysterious  pictures  from  the  shadows 
on  the  white  walls.  The  sheep  in  the  back 
yard  bleated  more  loudly  and  plaintively. 
Thus  the  night  passed. 

In  the  morning  a  thick,  icy  fog  had  covered 
everything.  Nothing  could  be  seen  anywhere. 
The  rain  had  ceased,  but  everything  was  cold 
and  wet.  Sitting  beside  the  kettle  waiting 
for  the  tea  to  be  ready,  we  mutely  listened 
to  the  booming  at  Veedlich  which  had  not 
diminished. 

"Am  I  mistaken,  or  is  it  really  so?  The 
firing  is  much  nearer,"  said  a  soldier  stamp- 
ing his  feet  in  the  mud. 

It  seemed  the  same  to  me.  I  could  not 
know  the  truth,  for  the  captain  was  in  the 
72 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


regimental  staff.  We  again  grew  silent  and 
listened.  The  firing  was  really  moving  closer 
and  closer  to  the  pass.  An  hour  after  it  was 
in  the  same  line  as  our  trenches  and  the  valley, 
only  four  thousand  feet  higher. 

"WTiat's  the  captain  doing.'*"  I  asked 
impatiently. 

I  was  worried.  I  ordered  the  soldiers,  who 
had  drunk  their  tea,  to  be  ready.  They  tight- 
ened up  their  cartridge  belts,  slung  their  guns 
over  their  shoulders,  and  stood  in  the  mud 
silently,  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets. 
The  tents  remained  up,  yellow,  wet,  and  sad 
in  the  midst  of  the  black  mud.  Later  the 
firing  grew  entirely  distinct.  It  seemed  to  be 
at  the  edge  of  Veedlich. 

All  of  a  sudden  the  captain  ran  in  and  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"Lift  them!" 

The  soldiers  ran  toward  the  tents,  and  in 
the  clap  of  a  hand  the  tents  were  pulled  down 
and  folded.  Wet  and  stiff  the  soldiers  pain- 
fully lifted  them  on  their  shoulders. 

"What  is  it,  Meele.^"  I  asked  the  captain 
who  stood  quietly,  but  pale. 
73 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"Simple.  Profiting  by  the  fog  they  have 
taken  Golemi-Vrh.  Many  positions  at  Batoo- 
shin  are  surrounded.  The  Twentieth  Regi- 
ment is  retreating.  Our  second  battalion, 
which  was  in  the  reserve  of  the  division, 
was  sent  to  help.  The  situation  is  dreadful. 
Hurry  up.  hurry  up!  Are  you  ready?  Fol- 
low!" cried  this  man  and  went  as  if  he  were 
not  bearing  a  terrible  sickness  in  his  breast. 

The  soldiers  ran  after  him,  slipping  in  the 
mud,  and  still  tightening  their  equipments. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  run  through  this  val- 
ley full  of  small  slippery,  muddy  hills,  and 
the  climb  up  the  steep  side  which  lifted  to- 
ward the  sky.  The  sweat  ran  from  our  burn- 
ing bodies,  our  mouths  parched  dry,  our 
tongues  swelled,  our  breath  was  gone.  A 
hundred  times  we  fell,  yet  we  hurried  for- 
ward. After  an  hour  and  a  half  we  came  near 
the  top,  near  the  pass. 

The  most  dreadful  thing  was,  that  we  knew 
nothing:  neither  where  the  Bulgarians  were, 
nor  how  far  the  Twentieth  Regiment  had  re- 
treated. Are  the  Bulgarians  already  at  the 
pass?  If  they  are  there,  then  the  end  comes 
74 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


for  my  company,  for  they  could  dash  us  down 
the  precipice  with  stones;  and  yet  absolutely 
we  had  to  resist  them  in  order  to  save  our 
regiment  from  the  jaws  of  the  trap.  Luck 
came  when  the  wind  swept  away  the  fog. 
Again  we  could  see  around.  As  we  came  closer 
and  closer  to  the  pass,  we  could  hear  more  dis- 
tinctly the  storm  that  raged  above  us. 

For  a  moment  it  happened  that  Spale  was 
beside  me.  We  looked  at  each  other.  All  our 
life,  all  our  love,  all  our  inseparable  friend- 
ship, was  lying  in  this  glance.  In  those  mo- 
ments destiny  was  deciding  pitilessly  about 
the  life  of  a  human  being,  the  being  who 
loved  and  was  loved  the  most.  What  inde- 
scribable pain  in  this  farewell  of  two  friends, 
who  for  sixteen  years  had  been  together,  and 
in  whose  childish  hearts  love  had  taken  deep 
root. 

*'I  feel  some  terrible  thing,  my  little  one!" 
said  Spale,  who  was  bathed  in  sweat,  pale, 
shivering,  and  breathing  heavily. 

"Foolishness!  Old  fool  as  you  are,"  I  said, 
trying  to  joke  and  smile,  although  I  myself 
felt  a  tremendous  pain  in  my  breast. 
75 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"No,  no,  it  is  not  foolishness.  I  never  felt 
this  before  when  I  was  going  into  battle. 
Something  which  .  .  .  You  see  I  am  all  shiv- 
ering/* And  he  grasped  my  hand  which  he 
pressed  convulsively.  Then  slowly  he  began 
to  whisper:  — 

"If  I  am  going  to  be  kil  .  .  .'* 

"Stop!"  I  exclaimed,  at  the  limit  of  my 
strength. 

When  we  came  near  to  the  top,  the  com- 
pany halted.  The  soldiers  who  remained 
behind,  or  had  fallen,  continued  to  come  up. 
The  captain  called  to  me:  — 

"Take  ten  soldiers,  go  to  the  top,  and  see 
what  the  matter  is.  It  seems  to  me  that  they 
are  not  yet  at  the  pass.  Be  careful." 

Ten  minutes  later  I  was  in  front  of  three 
gigantic  holes,  which  opened  on  the  plateau 
of  Batooshin.  The  tremendous  rocks  reared 
into  the  sky,  making  a  fearsome  scene.  I  was 
trembling.  I  went  ahead  from  stone  to  stone, 
expecting  every  moment  to  hear  the  ugly 
chak-choh  whistle  raging  beside  my  ear  and  to 
see  the  unkempt  head  which  was  laughing  be- 
hind a  stone.  But  this  "pleasure"  had  not 
76 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


happened  even  when  I  reached  the  top.  WTien 
I  first  glanced  at  the  endless  Batooshin,  I  ex- 
clauned  in  joy.  On  the  round  plateau  stretched 
a  gigantic  tongue,  made  from  hills  and 
trenches,  whose  thicker  end  was  on  the  Bul- 
garian side.  The  tongue  was  covered  with 
black  masses  which  moved  toward  its  end.  Be- 
tween the  pass  and  the  tongue  was  a  large  val- 
ley with  a  stream  of  white  stones  in  the  mid- 
dle of  it.  In  the  front  of  the  tip  of  the  tongue 
were  other  black  masses  which  moved  and 
arranged  themselves  in  order.  And  between 
those  black  masses,  smoke,  whistle,  booming. 
From  the  left  side  of  the  pass,  from  Golemi- 
Vrh,  from  the  sky,  the  Bulgarians  came  down 
slowly,  hiding  themselves  behind  the  stones. 
After  a  while  my  captain  came,  and  for  a  few 
moments  looked  around  at  the  situation. 

"TVTiy,  that  is  not  at  all  so  bad.  And  I  had 
thought  that  we  should  fly  at  each  other's 
throats  right  away!  Now,  two  platoons  to 
remain  here  and  open  fire  immediately  at 
Batooshin.  Those  from  Golemi-Vrh  are  dan- 
gerous. You  will  go  for  them  with  two  other 
platoons.  You  know  .  .  .  to-day  is  the  chance 
77 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


.  .  .  where  is  the  telephone?"  he  asked  a  cor- 
poral whom  he  sent  to  find  it. 

"An  oflBcer  from  the  Twentieth  has  an 
observation  post  right  here,"  said  the  cor- 
poral. 

"Good.  Golemi-Vrh  is  a  beautiful  mark 
for  the  artillery  from  the  valley.  I  am  going 
to  order  action  immediately.  Spale,  your 
platoon  there.  Trailo,  behind  those  stones. 
Cheda,  try  to  catch  the  connection  with  the 
Twentieth.  Is  the  ammunition  coming .f^" 
cried  this  wonderful  man,  running  to  all 
sides. 

I  arranged  two  platoons  in  a  battle  line, 
sent  patrols,  and  went  toward  Golemi-Vrh. 
I  halted  my  soldiers  at  a  stony  hillside,  which 
was  an  excellent  position,  for  in  front  of  it 
there  was  a  little  precipice,  at  three  hundred 
metres  in  front  of  the  Bulgarians.  We  chose 
the  best  stones.  And  exactly  in  the  same  mo- 
ment when  I  opened  fire,  those  at  the  pass 
opened  also.  It  was  near  noon. 

A  dreadful  storm  began.  In  recalling  this 
gigantic  battle  I  feel  that  all  words  are  weak 
and  ineffective  to  describe  it.  It  was  a  battle 
78 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


of  life  and  death,  the  battle  of  fanatical  wild 
men,  intoxicated  by  the  glory  of  victory,  who 
were  running,  ragingly,  to  seize  Basarski- 
Kamen,  to  throw  themselves  between  Pas- 
jacha  and  Malich  Mountains,  to  take  Nish 
and  surround  three  hundred  thousand  Ser- 
bian soldiers;  the  battle  of  desperate  de- 
fenders of  their  fathers,  mothers,  brothers, 
and  sisters,  dying  willingly,  bathing  them- 
selves in  their  own  blood,  performing  won- 
ders; they  were  accomplishing  this  holy  task. 
Life  became  a  price  with  which  was  bought  a 
new  moment  of  liberty. 

When  I  opened  fire,  the  Bulgarians  (a  com- 
pany of  two  hundred  and  seventy  men)  in 
front  of  my  soldiers  stopped,  astonished. 
Certainly  they  did  not  expect  us.  In  a  second 
they  dropped  behind  the  stones  and  poured 
out  their  fire.  God,  were  ever  there  such  mo- 
ments! Shooting  on  a  stony  place  is  a  hun- 
dred times  more  terrible  than  on  a  common 
field,  for  the  stones,  smashed  by  bullets,  fly 
into  faces,  cutting  and  stabbing  them,  wound- 
ing hands,  digging  out  eyes. 

Five  minutes  later  our  artillery  in  the  val- 
79 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


ley  began  to  act.  We  did  not  hear  the  boom- 
ing or  whistling,  but  suddenly  the  shells  were 
exploding  among  the  Bulgarians,  making 
havoc.  After  a  few  moments  the  Bulgarians 
went  ahead.  New  masses  were  rolling  down 
from  Golemi-Vrh.  A  question  was  in  the  air. 
A  question  of  the  selfish  destiny  which  hov- 
ered between  those  two  lines.  I  grasped  it. 
It  was  the  question  of  speed.  Our  artillery 
must  shoot  quickly  so  as  to  smash  the  masses 
of  the  enemy  before  they  gained  ground,  or 
the  Bulgarians  would,  with  their  quick  for- 
ward movements,  avoid  this  catastrophe, 
reach  my  position,  annihilate  my  soldiers,  and 
take  the  pass.  I  trembled  in  my  whole  body. 
I  looked  around  me  .  .  .  for  a  moment  I  lost 
my  presence  of  mind.  Instantly  after  I  called 
my  orderly :  — 

"Run  to  the  captain  and  say  to  him  that 
the  Bulgarians  are  advancing,  and  that  the 
only  help  is  the  artillery,  which  must  wipe 
out  from  my  position  to  the  top  of  Golemi- 
Vrh.   Run!" 

The  soldier  ran  away. 

Everywhere  around  was  boiling,  shaking, 
80 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


destruction.  The  horrible  booming  became 
the  only  sound,  the  heavy,  gloomy  sound 
which  struck  upon  our  heads.  The  men  were 
falling.  How  they  screamed  .  .  .  and  above, 
the  laughter  of  death.  I  felt  that  something 
gigantic  was  developing  around  me:  some- 
thing which  will  enter  into  history. 

In  front  of  my  position  were  smoke,  white 
dust,  and  blood;  suddenly  another  sound 
broke  this  heavy,  gloomy  one,  much  more  hor- 
rible and  unsupportable.  It  was  a  human 
howl.  The  black  masses  had  lifted  themselves 
from  behind  the  rocks  and  were  running  to- 
ward my  side.  The  Bulgarians  had  gone 
ahead  to  solve  the  question.  I  straightened 
myself.  An  imperative  power  made  me 
straighten.  Heads  and  breasts  appeared 
amidst  the  white  dust  and  smoke.  My  sol- 
diers had  also  raised  themselves.  Those  are 
giants,  ready  for  everything.  Do  you  seek 
men,  animals?  Here  they  are.  My  soldiers 
fired  with  indescribable  speed,  imaginable 
only  in  a  dream.  Men  were  falling,  making 
a  dreadful  curve  as  they  fell.  That  which  re- 
mained was  only  an  ugly  red  mass  of  heads 
81 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


on  the  stones.  The  Bulgarians  were  coming 
closer.  We  felt  their  breath,  and  the  filthy  and 
pestilent  sound  splashed  in  our  faces.  To  die! 
rang  through  my  head,  and  I  felt  a  powerful 
delight.  Those  moments  are  inexplicable. 
They  are  here  .  .  . 

Just  a  moment !  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of 
this  booming,  of  these  howls  and  shrieks,  this 
ferocious  readiness  to  fight  and  tear  our  flesh, 
to  die,  we  heard  a  quick  pattering.  With  the 
utmost  rapidity,  seeing  my  evident  destruc- 
tion, the  captain  had  sent  my  two  machine 
guns.  Help!  Rescue!  From  where?  From 
here,  behind  those  stones,  from  these  valleys, 
from  these  forests  and  mountains,  from  this 
breast,  from  this  land,  from  my  country. 
Here,  my  brothers  are  fighting  and  dying; 
they  help  each  other  and  die  again  .  .  .  the 
spirit  of  poetry,  the  spirit  of  Serbia,  has  be- 
come a  reality,  which  accomplishes  wonders. 

When  the  machine  guns  began  to  fire,  my 
soldiers  jumped,  and  straightened  themselves 
completely,  magnificent  as  the  giants  in  the 
old  songs  of  ours. 

"You  are  sentenced  to  death,  gentlemen 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


Bulgarians!"  I  exclaimed,  as  if  intoxicated. 
Our  artillery,  knowing  now  exactly  the  posi- 
tions, worked  with  the  speed  and  force  of  an 
ocean  storm.  The  howling  black  mass  is  fall- 
ing now  .  .  .  God,  I  never  saw  so  much  torn 
flesh!  Pressed,  crushed,  divided  into  small 
parts,  these  three  hundred  men  became  in- 
sane beasts  which  bit  their  own  flesh.  A 
glance  upon  my  soldiers :  proud,  erect,  splen- 
did, bareheaded,  giving  their  breasts,  were 
the  fighters  for  liberty.  And  suddenly,  as 
one  man,  powerful  and  thunderous,  echoed, 
piercing  the  boiling  air :  — 

Aoy,  Kayka,  what  a  load  I  carry! 

Your  mother's  sorrow,  now  how  can  you  marry? 

Ee,  yoo,  yoo,  brides  are  few, 
Ee,  yoo,  yoo,  brides  are  few, 
They  keep  the  ones  they'd  promised  you. 

Soldiers,  mother,  see  the  guns  they  carry! 
They'll  save  us  and  come  back  and  I  shall  marry! 

Ee,  yoo,  yoo,  brides  are  few, 
Ee,  yoo,  yoo,  brides  are  few, 
They  keep  the  ones  they'd  promised  you. 

I  thought  my  heart  would  break  with  emo- 
tion and  pride,  true  happiness,  with  love  for 
83 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


these  men,  for  these  Serbian  peasants,  who 
do  not  know  what  the  word  "democracy" 
means,  but  who  create  it  and  write  it  with 
their  own  blood. 

This  black  mass  tried  to  gather  itself  for 
the  last  time,  but  stricken  with  a  deadly  hor- 
ror, it  became  insane,  and  disheartened, 
turned  its  back. 

"Powerful  Tsar's  armies  are  flying!"  I  was 
laughing.  "But  a  painful  road  is  that  of 
safety,  over  stones,  over  sharp  rocks  and 
corpses,  over  the  tainted  foolish  heads,  which 
are  buried  in  the  depths  of  precipices." 

Our  artillery  had  covered  every  foot,  shat- 
tered every  stone,  and  smashed  every  single 
being.  The  devil  himself  could  not  live  there! 

A  thunderous  "Oorah!"  vibrated  and 
sounded  everywhere,  mingling  with  the  song 
of  my  soldiers.  I  looked  into  the  valley  and 
at  Batooshin.  In  the  valley  the  men  were 
fighting,  hand  to  hand,  over  the  white  stones, 
killing  pitilessly.  And  there,  far  over  the  tip 
of  the  tongue,  four  long  lines  were  advancing, 
and  before  them,  the  Bulgarians  were  rolling, 
fighting,  fleeing  like  hounds.  Black  spots  upon 
84 


THE   FALL  OF  NISH 


the  gray  rocks  remained  deathly  still  behind 
those  four  lines,  eight  hundred  and  sixty  in 
number.  Those  in  the  valley  had  lifted  their 
hands  into  the  air. 

Victory !  Victory !  rang  in  my  heart.  Again 
a  few  moments  of  liberty  were  bought  for 
this  nation.  At  four  o'clock  all  of  Batooshin 
was  retaken.  The  Twentieth  Regiment  went 
back  to  its  old  positions. 

I  remained  at  my  place  as  "dead  sentinel" 
before  Golemi-Vrh,  which  no  longer  belonged 
to  Bulgaria  or  to  Serbia,  but  to  death.  During 
the  night  the  Twentieth  conquered  the  pro- 
prietor. When  darkness  began  to  fall,  a 
frightened  and  embarrassed  soldier  came  to 
me  and  said :  — 

"Lieutenant,  the  captain  has  ordered  that 
Cheda  remain  with  the  soldiers  and  you  are 
to  come  to  him  instantly."  His  voice  was 
sad,  low,  and  uncertain,  and  his  lips  quivered. 

"Why.'*"  I  asked  him,  astonished. 

"I  don't  know  ...  I  beg  you,  don't  ask 
me,"  gasped  the  unhappy  man. 

A  premonition  of  something  terrible  passed 
over  me.  W^hat!  After  this  victory,  after  this 
85 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


excitement,  after  this  joy,  unhappiness  to 
come  immediately! 

"Speak,  speak!"  I  exclaimed,  grasping  the 
soldier's  hand. 

He  looked  at  me,  and  his  eyes  filled  with 
tears  and  his  breast  heaved.  He  wanted  to 
speak  to  me,  but  could  only  swallow  some- 
thing in  his  throat  which  suffocated  him.  He 
tore  his  hand  from  my  clasp  and  ran  away. 
Why  tears .'^  I  questioned.  Whom  does  this 
unhappy  soul  grieve  for?  Why  now?  Sud- 
denly I  screamed,  staggered,  lost  my  sight, 
kneeled,  and  grew  weak. 

Spale,  Spale !  flashed  through  my  head,  and 
a  power  lifted  me  and  gave  me  new  strength. 
I  ran  over  the  stones.  That  which  I  never, 
never  dared  even  to  think  had  come  true  — 
he  whom  my  heart  so  loved! 

"Spale,  Spale!"  I  cried,  as  if  insane.  I  ran 
over  the  sharp  rocks  falling,  bleeding. 

I  stopped.  On  an  overcoat  Spale  was  lying. 
My  Spale!  O  God,  why  this  stroke?  A  large 
white  bandage  was  bound  over  his  stomach. 
His  clothes,  torn,  ragged,  and  bloody,  had 
been  cut  from  his  body,  and  were  scattered 
86 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


around.  His  breast  was  rising  and  falling 
...  so  slowly. 

"Alive!"  screamed  something  within  me. 

His  eyes  were  closed  .  .  .  the  face  yellow 
and  green,  mouth  wide  open.  The  captain 
was  kneeling  beside  him,  looking  fixedly  at  a 
spot,  all  his  body  convulsed  by  a  terrible 
cough. 

I  felt  as  if  I  swayed,  as  if  I  could  not  stand 
any  longer.  I  felt  my  consciousness  going. 

"Where  is  he  wounded?"  I  asked  with  my 
last  strength. 

The  captain  raised  his  head  slowly.  His 
face  was  black,  his  eyes  sunken  .  .  .  and  said, 
with  a  killing  pain :  — 

"In  the  spine.  The  legs  are  already  dead." 

"In  the  spine,"  I  screamed,  and  fell  beside 
him. 


Lightning  after  lightning,  thunder  after 
thunder,  a  deluge  of  rain,  the  like  of  which  I 
never  saw  in  my  life;  wind,  storm,  tempest,  a 
night  of  Stygian  darkness ;  the  fury  and  cruelty 
of  raging  nature  which  was  at  the  height  of  its 
87 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


wildness  and  power.  Such  was  the  night  when 
my  company,  the  last  one,  left  the  town  of 
Pirot. 

The  order  for  general  retreat  had  come  three 
days  after  the  battle  and  victory  at  Batooshin 
and  Odorovski  Pass.  We  had  to  retreat  even 
though  the  Bulgarians  had  not  taken  a  single 
foot  of  this  whole  sector  of  Pirot,  even  though 
they,  before  the  Second  Army,  which  was  at 
this  position,  had  lost  more  than  twenty 
thousand  men.  Yet  by  the  game  of  destiny 
and  the  rule  of  ten  to  one,  we  were  compelled 
to  retreat.  The  Germans  had  taken  Uzice, 
Jagodina,  Parachin,  Svilajnac,  half  of  Serbia, 
and  were  advancing  toward  Krushevatz  and 
Kralevo.  The  Bulgarians  at  the  north  had 
taken  Aleksinatz  and  Derven,  at  the  south, 
Vranye,  Veles,  Skople  (Uskub),  cutting  the 
main  railroad  line,  dividing  the  whole  coun- 
try into  two  parts.  It  was  the  whole  meaning 
of  Serbian  misery.  Now  came  the  danger  of 
our  being  cut  off,  and  so  we  had  to  retreat. 
Literally  this  country  was  surrounded,  pressed 
by  fire,  steel,  wildness,  and  hatred.  Yet  the 
Serbian  people  still  fought,  with  indescrib- 
88 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


able  courage,  coolness,  and  pride,  on  the 
bloody  barricade  of  their  liberty. 

At  eight  o'clock  we  left  our  last  positions 
and  passed  through  Pirot.  The  town  had 
died;  no  lights,  not  a  single  soul;  a  town  of 
horror-land,  or  of  the  dead.  Only  the  wind 
and  storm  shrieked  between  the  silent  little 
houses.  When  the  lightning  flashed,  with  its 
tremendous  reddish-green  light,  we  saw,  for 
an  instant,  how  the  flood  of  icy  water  splashed 
the  white  walls.  This  ice-cold  water  dashed 
through  our  clothes  and  ran  toward  our 
hearts. 

We  met  the  Fourth  Battery,  the  cannon 
which  were  always  with  my  battalion,  out- 
side of  the  town.  Those  four  cannon,  our 
inseparable  friends,  our  lovers,  who  had 
saved  our  lives  already  a  hundred  times,  now 
went  with  my  whole  battalion,  two  com- 
panies ahead  and  two  at  the  rear,  for  the  Bul- 
garians might  attack  us  at  any  moment  in  the 
darkness  and  storm.  If  that  happened,  we 
had  to  die  with  those  friends. 

The  storm  reached  its  height  of  violence. 
The  lightnings  crossed  each  other  upon  the 
89 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


black  and  heavy  clouds  and  fell  and  mingled 
with  the  drenched  earth.  We  were  almost 
entirely  blinded  by  these  flashes;  we  lost  every 
feeling,  every  trace  even  of  a  sense,  whose 
name  is  sight.  We  went  ahead  by  instinct, 
and,  perhaps,  by  habit.  The  terrible  menacing 
roll  of  the  thunder  ran  through  the  black  at- 
mosphere. The  rain  fell  as  if  poured  from  the 
clouds.  Really,  it  seemed  as  if  the  whole 
heavy  air  was  filled  with  icy  water  which 
moved  and  ran,  before  the  foolish  will  of 
the  raging  wind.  We  were  wet  through  and 
through.  The  freezing  water  poured  into  our 
necks  and  ran  down  our  backs  like  the  cold 
slime  of  a  poison  serpent.  After  a  while  we 
became  stiffened  and  the  swollen  skin,  from 
which  the  dirt  peeled  off,  grew  more  and  more 
insensible.  We  walked  through  something 
which  was  soft  and  deep,  and  which  was  icy 
cold  and  moved  beneath  our  feet. 

I  went  with  Bata,  as  the  whole  battalion 
was  together.  Once  in  a  while  we  would  touch 
each  other  and  grasp  hold  so  as  not  to  lose 
each  other,  or  we  would  hold  each  other  when 
one  of  us  staggered  in  the  wind,  or  from  sleep- 
90 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


iness  or  stumbling  through  water  and  mud. 
We  were  going  silently.  It  was  impossible  to 
talk  and  equally  impossible  even  to  smoke.  I 
knew  that  he,  as  myself,  had  but  one  thought 
—  Spale.  Oh,  my  God!  No,  no,  I  cannot,  I 
will  not,  make  peace  with  the  thought  that 
this  man,  this  soul,  this  artist,  this  friend,  is 
now  dying.  Since  I  knew  myself  I  have  loved 
this  friend  whom  I  called  Spale,  more  than 
myself.  His  beautiful  eyes  had  looked  upon 
me  with  childlike,  innocent,  and  happy  smiles 
through  the  bright,  hopeful  glance  of  boy- 
hood, and  through  the  tears  of  a  man  who  is 
suffering  from  the  unhappiness  created  among 
our  people.  Friend !  One  who  has  been  in  the 
battles,  who  has  felt  the  bony  embrace  of 
death,  who  has  bled,  who  has  hungered,  who 
has  suffered  superhuman  pain,  knows  what 
this  word  means,  knows  what  an  angelical 
being  is  described  by  it.  In  such  a  time 
a  friend  is  everything,  father,  mother,  and 
brother,  and  happy  life.  After  the  horrors 
the  glances  meet  each  other,  the  hands  grasp 
each  other,  and  one  feels  so,  so  good.  Spale, 
beside  his  friendship,  carried  in  his  heart  the 
91 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


divine  art  for  which  we  both  lived.  And  now 
all  this  is  dying  in  Cele-Koola,  one  of  the 
many  hospitals  in  Nish. 

"He  must  die"  was  ringing  in  my  whole 
being  endlessly,  causing  such  bitter  pain 
that  it  would  be  folly  trying  to  describe  it. 
But  one  thing  we  knew  very  well,  Bata  and 
I,  we  must  see  him  for  the  last  time. 

We  went  on  and  on  for  a  long  time,  bent 
forward,  fighting  with  the  wind,  and  without 
rest.  The  horrors  of  the  weather  were  not 
lessening.  It  began  to  be  so  dreadful,  so  ter- 
rible as  to  be  insane.  Our  clothes  became 
heavy  as  lead,  clinging  to,  and  chafing  our 
skin.  Although  we  could  not  feel,  we  knew 
that  it  was  bitten  and  bleeding.  The  water 
flowed  over  the  road.  We  stepped  up  to  our 
knees  at  times  in  the  water  which  ran  so 
swiftly  as  to  tax  our  strength.  When  the  light- 
ning flashed,  we  would  stand  aghast  at  see- 
ing where  we  were. 

Presently  we  began  to  meet  strange  beings. 

By  the  lightning  we  saw  that  many  were 

in  small  groups,  and  that  they  were  little, 

and  that  they  staggered,  and  that  they  were 

9^ 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


falling.  Then  through  the  wind  and  rain  we 
heard  frightened  exclamations,  screams,  and 
moans.  Now  they  were  everywhere  among 
the  soldiers.  We  felt  that  they  were  reach- 
ing out  for  us. 

"Who  are  these?'*  I  asked  Bata  loudly. 

"Children,"  he  replied. 

"Children!"  I  exclaimed,  frightened. 

I  came  closer  to  one  of  the  little  creatures. 
When  the  lightning  flashed,  I  saw  that  it  was 
not  a  child,  but  an  old  man.  A  little  cheecha, 
with  a  blanket  thrown  over  his  head  and  arms 
outstretched,  trying  to  hold  himself  balanced. 

"From  where  are  those  children?"  I  asked 
when  the  thunder  ceased  to  roll. 

"Don't  ask,"  came  to  me  an  angry,  pain- 
ful voice  and  grew  silent.  But  the  cheecha 
staggered  and  clutched  at  me  in  order  to  keep 
from  falling.  I  took  him  by  his  hand.  Again 
the  words  began  to  fly :  — 

"Order  . .  .  came  that  all  children  .  .  .  from 
twelve  to  eighteen  ...  fly  ...  fly,  boga  me 
,  .  .  know  not  .  .  .  where  ..." 

"The  order  came  two  weeks  ago.  Why  are 
you  so  late?"  I  said. 

93 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"Came  .  .  .  but  you  don't  know  where 
Dojknica  ...  is  ...  In  the  mountains  .  .  .  far 
.  .  .  desert,  in  sky.  Then  those  children  were 
*out'  .  .  .  with  sheep  ...  far  ...  we  had  to 
gather  them  .  .  .  painfully.  Then  we  had  to 
kill ...  to  butcher  all  the  sheep  .  . .  thousands 
. .  .  sorrows  and  pains  f or  .  .  .  they  were  all 
our  fortune  .  .  .  mal  .  .  .  you  know  it  yourself 
...  to  skin  them  .  .  .  that  the  Bulgarians 
might  not  find  the  wool  ...  we  burned  them 
. . .  much  work  . . .  unhappiness  ...  we  could 
not  earlier  ..." 

The  words  of  this  unhappy  one  came  brok- 
enly through  the  wind  and  rain.  Suddenly  I 
felt  that  he  grasped  my  hand  closely,  that  his 
face  was  near  to  mine,  and  he  exclaimed  in  a 
heart-rending  voice :  — 
,    "irA^re  are  we  going?" 

I  did  not  reply  to  him.  Onlj'  it  came  to  me 
to  embrace  him  and  to  weep. 

After  a  time  we  saw  lights  through  the 
night  and  rain.  It  was  a  large  old  han.^  Red 
smoke  poured  out  through  the  big  broken 
windows,  for  many  fires  were  burning  inside, 

^  A  very  large,  old,  one-roomed  inn  by  the  highway. 
94 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


around  which  black  shadows  were  crowding. 
Outside  the  han  an  immense  throng  of  men, 
soldiers,  women,  children,  horses,  wagons, 
cannon,  oxen,  and  sheep  were  moving  and 
shifting  in  the  darkness  and  rain.  Screams, 
shouts,  moans  of  children,  and  breathing  of 
cattle  came  from  it.  When  Bata  and  I  fin- 
ally got  into  the  han,  the  acrid  smoke  bit  our 
eyes.  The  han  was  jammed  with  soldiers, 
men,  women,  children,  horses,  and  sheep. 
And  many  fires  were  burning  on  the  ground. 
Around  these  were  gathered  pitiful  crowds 
from  which  the  water  dripped  and  ran  into 
the  fires.  The  women  were  standing  around 
them  holding  their  screaming  little  ones. 
Children  were  lying  near  the  walls  in  the 
water  and  mud  quivering  with  pain  and  moan- 
ing piteously,  trampled  by  the  sheep.  The 
soldiers,  silent,  dark,  and  stiff,  were  squatted 
beside  the  fires  with  hands  outstretched,  pay- 
ing no  attention  to  the  hoofs  of  the  horses 
which  were  at  their  backs.  A  woman  stood 
beside  me.  Her  wet  hair  clung  against  her 
dark  and  quivering  face,  and  to  her  dress  from 
which  the  water  ran.  She  was  holding  a  little 
95 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


child  in  her  deathly  tired  arms,  pressing  it  un- 
consciously to  her  wet  and  icy  breast.  The 
child,  whose  thin  wet  clothes  clung  to  his  lit- 
tle legs,  was  screaming  with  the  last  screams 
of  exhaustion  when  there  is  no  sound  but  a 
gasp  of  death.  A  convulsive  shiver  passed 
over  him  for  the  last  time.  He  grasped  with 
his  last  tiny  strength  his  mother's  ice-cold 
breast  in  his  little  hands. 

"O  God,  what  sin  have  I  done?"  whispered 
this  mother,  looking  upon  her  child. 

"Let  us  go  from  here,"  I  said  to  Bata,  and 
we  went  out  into  the  darkness,  cold,  rain,  and 
horror. 

Thus  Serbia  had  fled  .  .  .  The  man  who 
created  this  bears  the  name  of  Wilhelm  II  von 
Hohenzollern,  and  millions  are  exclaiming: 
"Hochder  Kaiser!" 

After  two  days  of  retreat  we  stopped  at  the 
positions  of  Shpaya  which  were  near  the  town 
of  Bela-Palanka.  These  positions  had  de- 
fended the  entrance  of  the  canon  between 
the  Pasjacha  and  Malich  Mountains  which 
comes  out  into  the  valley  of  Nish.  Again  the 
old  game.  Now,  in  order  that  the  armies  from 
96 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


the  north,  and  especially  the  combined  army 
which  retreated  from  Aleksintz,  should  not 
be  surrounded,  in  case  the  Bulgarians  should 
pass  earlier  through  this  canon,  again  we  had 
to  hold  the  positions.  We  were  told  that  there 
was  a  need  for  twenty-four  hours'  delay.  To 
secure  this,  twenty  thousand  men  made  an 
assault,  driving  the  enemy  for  six  miles.  The 
battle  was  dreadful,  persistent,  wild,  without 
any  pity,  without  anything  which  could  be 
prescribed  to  a  man.  There  I  saw  how  the 
black  hands  tore  out  throats,  how  the  yellow 
teeth  sank  into  flesh.  There  I  saw  how  a  Bul- 
garian struck  the  knife  into  the  breast  and 
jumped  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  his  vic- 
tim, holding  firmly  the  handle  in  his  fist,  so 
that  the  knife  would  turn  in  the  wound. 
There  my  captain  reached  the  culmination  of 
his  unhappiness:  he  was  only  wounded;  his 
left  leg  was  crushed. 

One  night,  after  two  days  of  this  unparal- 
leled butchery,  we  were  near  Nichka-Banya, 
a  place  two  miles  from  the  town  of  Nish.  Two 
battalions  of  my  regiment  remained  at  Chegar 
and  other  positions  as  an  advanced  post,  for 
97 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


defense.  At  three  o'clock  after  midnight,  two 
other  battalions,  mine  and  the  second,  were 
to  retreat,  and  the  other  two  in  the  morning. 
Those  will  be  the  last  soldiers  to  pass  through 
Nish. 

After  a  long  search  and  wandering  through 
an  immense  building,  full  of  screams,  dark- 
ness, smell,  and  moaning,  of  dreadful  shadows 
creeping  near  the  walls  of  the  corridors,  Bata 
and  I  finally  stood  before  a  black  door.  On  it 
was  written  with  white  chalk,  "Moribun- 
dus,"  half  rubbed  out. 

"Here  it  is,"  scarcely  whispered  Bata. 

"Certainly  he  must  die!"  again  struck  my 
heart,  for  I  knew  from  experience  who  came 
to  the  room  with  this  inscription,  and  I  felt 
as  if  something  hot,  ugly,  and  rough  had 
clenched  my  throat. 

Bata  slowly  opened  the  door  .  .  . 

Twilight,  sweet,  tender,  rosy  light;  moan- 
ing, painful  exclamations,  smell  of  tobacco 
and  flowers!  We  stopped  before  the  door 
silent  and  aghast.  Suddenly  from  a  corner 
came  a  happy,  exalted  voice:  — 
98 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


"Here,  here,  here  I  am!"  We  ran  toward 
that  voice. 

Two  outstretched,  trembling  arms,  two 
beautiful,  shining,  but  sunken,  eyes,  a  happy 
smile  upon  the  pale  lips,  were  all  that  re- 
mained to  a  human  being,  with  which  to  greet 
his  friends.  We  grasped  those  two  hands,  the 
hands  which  had  created  divine  works,  we 
pressed  them,  and  remained  long  silent  and 
motionless. 

"I  knew  you  would  come.  How  impatient 
I  was  waiting  for  you,  but  I  knew  you  would 
come,  my  good,  good  ones!  I  was  sure  ..." 
spoke  Spale  after  a  while,  quickly,  emotion- 
ally, drawing  us  convulsively  toward  him. 

"Don't  be  scared.  You  will  not  hurt  me," 
he  continued,  smiling  when  he  saw  that  we 
were  trying  not  to  touch  him. 

"I  do  not  feel  .  .  .  anything,  at  all!  Except 
my  arms,  heart,  and  head,  all,  but  you  know 
a  'tout'  qu'il  faut  souligner,  —  all  is  dead. 
They  have  given  me  a  pleasure  that  I  can  be 
present  at  my  own  funeral !  And  so  now  I  am 
holding  endless  eulogies  to:  Spale,  the  man 
who  tried  to  be  an  artist,  bohemian,  painter, 
99 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


who  began  with  'The  Fence'  and  finished 
with  *The  Kiss';  then  to  Spale  who  is  a  son 
and  whose  mother  does  not  know  that  he  is 
now  at  his  own  funeral ;  then  to  the  man  who 
was  a  friend,  which  your  presence  proves;  and 
finally,  to  Spale,  soldier  who  died  for  his  land 
without  glory,  without  decoration  .  .  .  bad 
luck,  boys!" 

I  straightened,  and  looked  upon  him,  un- 
able to  believe  this.  I  knew  him  as  well  as  I 
knew  myself.  I  thought  I  knew  every  single 
thought  of  his,  and  now  I  could  not  believe  his 
words,  this  joke,  this  smile,  this  keen  laugh- 
ing, this  contempt  of  death.  He  was  lying  in 
this  bed  from  which  he  could  never,  never  get 
up.  And  yet  upon  his  face  was  a  sincere,  warm, 
happy  smile,  as  if  he  was  awakening  in  a 
beautiful  spring  morning  with  his  window  full 
of  May  roses.  Under  the  cover  his  legs  were 
outlined  in  an  unnatural,  stiffened  position. 
His  feet  were  crossed,  the  knees  pressed  to- 
gether, and  one  could  feel  that  something  use- 
less, dead,  decaying,  was  there. 

"Oh!  I  am  just  happy  now!"  he  was  ex- 
claiming in  the  same  happy  voice.  *'You 
100 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


know,  they  told  me  that  I  have  a  wound  large 
as  a  plate  on  my  back.  They  also  told  me  that 
its  name  is  'decubitus.'  But  I  do  not  care  a 
little  bit  about  that  knowledge.  Think,  what 
a  pleasure!  Somebody,  making  a  good  joke, 
said,  he  sees  my  bones,  and  I  reply  to  him 
with  that  old  philosophic  'One  Semitic  says 
all  Semitics  are  lying.'" 

"Mameene,  mameene!"  suddenly  wailed  a 
high,  shrieking,  dreadful  voice.  Frightened 
and  amazed,  we  turned  our  heads.  A  big 
black  arm  waved  in  the  air  from  a  bed.  In  it 
a  creature  was  shaking,  writhing,  twisting, 
moving  the  bed  like  a  wild  animal  in  a  cage. 
We  saw  that  he  was  bound,  only  the  arm  was 
free,  big,  bony,  long,  bitten,  and  bloody.  And 
the  voice,  terrible  to  hear,  the  voice  of  an 
insane  and  dying  man  rang  through  the  little 
room. 

"That  is  the  voice  of  something  which  has 
only  enough  life  to  seek  its  brain  and  love,  the 
things  which  once  made  him  homo  sapiens'^ 
said  Spale,  seeing  our  astonishment.  *'His 
brain  was  carried  away  by  a  bullet,  but  there 
remained  the  strength  with  which  he  at- 
101 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


tacked  us,  seeking  both.  Don't  be  scared.  He 
is  harmless;  he  is  bound.  Yesterday,  when  the 
doctors  and  nurses  and  orderlies  went  away, 
they  bound  him,  making  safety  for  us  by  the 
windings  of  that  cord.  Poor  man!  Now  he 
does  not  look  any  more  for  his  brain,  assured 
that  that  is  a  thing  which  remained  on  the 
pavement  of  Belgrade,  but  when  he  awakes 
(usually  he  sleeps  very  long)  he  still  asks  for 
his  love  —  mother  —  who,  poor  one,  is  in  a 
certain  Polish  village,  for  you  must  know  he 
is  a  Pole.  As  you  can  see,  one  of  a  million  of 
'Bartek  the  Conqueror,'^  ideal  of  German 
*  liberty*  and  perfection  of  'right'  given  to  the 
nations." 

Quite  in  the  same  moment,  when  this  un- 
happy one  began  to  call  for  his  mother,  and 
while  Spale  spoke,  we  heard  another  sound. 
From  the  depths  of  a  bed,  quick,  sharp, 
lamentable  cries  from  under  the  cover  reached 
toward  us :  D-d-d-d-d  /  .  .  .  d-d-d-d-d  I  A 
large,  motionless  mass  was  under  the  cover  of 
the  bed  from  which  these  sounds  came. 

*'The  same,  only  a  little  different,"  con- 

*  Tales  by  Henryk  Sienkiewicz. 
102 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


tinued  Spale,  describing  his  dreadful  neigh- 
borhood with  wonderful  quietness  and  sin- 
cerity. *'From  him  everything  was  taken 
away,  —  force,  brain,  soul,  —  and  only  so 
much  life  remained  with  him  as  that  he  can, 
in  this  way,  pronounce  the  fourth  letter  of  the 
alphabet.  Really  a  funny  and  wonderful 
thing!  His  name  is  Dooshan.  And  now,  once 
in  a  while,  he  persistently  pronounces  this 
initial  of  his.  Certainly  he  is  introducing  him- 
self more  than  a  hundred  times  to  'Madame 
Noire,'  who,  although  much  occupied  these 
days  in  this  land,  yet  finds  time  to  come  into 
this  room.  Since  I  have  been  here  she  has 
come  eleven  times.  Ma  f  oi !  Lovely  guest ! " 

I  sat  down  beside  Spale's  bed  and  silently, 
sadly,  looked  around.  Room!  No,  no,  it  can- 
not be  called  simply  a  room.  This  place  where 
enters  a  human  being,  a  God's  creation,  now 
a  crushed  and  broken  creature,  at  the  border 
of  life,  but  who,  entering  this  place,  still  has 
a  soul,  soul  of  a  martyr,  fighter,  and  hero; 
still  has  a  heart  which  throbs  with  goodness, 
ideals  of  a  nation,  song  of  a  nation,  liberty 
of  a  nation;  still  has  the  spirit,  gigantic, 
103 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


unconquerable,  the  unbroken  spirit,  which 
eternally  hovers  over  fifteen  million  people 
who  bear  the  name  of  Serb!  ^  Such  a  one 
enters  this  place  and  several  hours  later  is 
carried  away,  a  cold,  lifeless  corpse;  but  soul, 
heart,  and  spirit  fly  outside  through  these 
windows  and  mingle  with  the  universe,  there, 
with  power,  eternity,  sublimity,  and  holiness 
to  create  the  future!  And  resurrect  the  na- 
tion! Yes,  this  is  the  place  of  holiness  and 
glory.  Glory;  for  instead  of  decorations  on 
their  breasts,  those  men  are  carrying  wounds, 
received  willingly  while  defending  the  liberty 
of  this  land.  ...  Or  this  is  the  place  of  hor- 
rors in  which  death  as  a  mediator  is  paying 
the  debts  for  the  native  country  in  such  a 
dreadful,  indescribable  way.  Just  because 
this  unpayable  debt  is  paid  in  such  a  way,  it 
is  impossible  that  it  remains  as  a  dead  thing, 
for  death  buys  new  lives,  and  debts  paid  with 
blood  give  liberty.  Then  is  this  place  the  place 
of  holiness,  glory,  and  horrors! 

There  were  seven  beds  under  the  softened 


^  The  spirit  of  united  "Yugoslav  Nation"  which  must  be 
realized. 


104 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


electric  light  which  was  covered  with  pink 
paper.  Five  were  standing  against  the  wall  in 
front  of  us,  and  two  against  the  opposite  side; 
between  these  two  was  the  stove.  On  one  of 
the  beds  near  the  window  was  Spale.  On  the 
right  side  of  his  bed  were  two  windows  and 
on  the  left  the  door.  In  the  middle  of  the 
room  was  a  large  table  with  a  white  cover. 
Four  large  plain  bowls  full  of  fresh  flowers 
were  on  it.  Chrysanthemums,  chrysanthe- 
mums! How  many  there  were,  and  how 
beautiful!  And  their  sweet  perfume!  It 
seemed  as  if  this  perfume  w^ere  struggling 
with  the  smell  of  wounds  and  odor  of  death 
which  crept  through  the  room  like  an  ugly 
serpent.  Evidently  the  sweet  good  chrysan- 
themums were  the  conquerors. 

Five  beds  before  my  eyes!  On  the  first, 
near  the  window,  was  the  Pole,  with  his  arm; 
next  to  him  Dooshan,  motionless.  Then  a 
giant,  big  and  stout,  was  sitting  in  the  bed 
with  his  black,  hairy,  disheveled  head  leaning 
against  the  wall.  His  right  hand  and  breast 
were  heavily  bandaged  in  white  cloth.  His 
left  hand,  with  amazing  rapidity,  was  lifting 
105 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


and  falling,  from  the  edge  of  the  bed  to  his 
mouth,  holding  the  eternal  cigarette.  He 
would  draw  the  smoke  into  his  mouth,  eagerly 
swallow  it,  hold  his  breath,  and  after  a  short 
while,  puff  it  out  with  great  force  from  his 
large  breast,  and  watch  the  rings  of  smoke 
with  his  staring,  wide-open  black  eyes.  He 
was  persistently  silent,  sunk  in  painful 
thoughts,  paying  no  attention  to  anything. 
Only  when  his  fingers  were  burned  he  would 
exclaim:  "Sister,  tobacco!" 

*'The  scholars  have  invented  a  wonder 
which  they  named  'gas-flegmona,'"  con- 
tinued Spale  in  his  introduction,  with  the 
same  manner,  "which  has  an  ugly  habit  of 
killing  a  man,  even  a  giant  like  that.  His 
wound  is  small,  but  unhappily  he  has  this  big 
sickness.  In  order  to  destroy  it  there  is  im- 
mediate need  to  cut  off  the  arm,  but  the  Ser- 
bian doctors  had  to  go  away  and  the  poor 
American  doctors  ^  have  only  about  one  hun- 

'  The  American  Medical  Mission  was  in  Belgrade  in  the 
large  pavilions  of  the  "Vojna  Bolnitza"  staying  there,  after 
Belgrade  was  attacked,  to  the  last  moment.  Finally,  when  the 
hospital  was  set  on  fire,  they  retreated.  Later,  coming  to  Nish, 
the  Serbian  Government  asked  them  to  care  for  and  sur- 
render the  Serbian  wounded  to  the  Bulgarians. 

106 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


dred  and  fifty  cases  like  this,  and  one  day  has 
only  twenty-four  hours.  Conclusion:  he  has 
to  die!" 

Next  to  this  man  a  small,  tender  figure  was 
in  the  bed.  From  time  to  time  painfully 
weak  moans  came  from  the  shaking  little 
figure. 

"You  would  never  believe  who  is  under 
this  blanket,"  continued  Spale.  "A  child. 
Fourteen  years!  Fleeing  from  Belgrade,  he 
and  many  others,  as  maybe  you  know,  had 
a  race  with  a  German  'taube.'  ^  Certainly 
he  lost  the  race  or  'taube'  would  n't  be 
*  taube'!  And  'pigeon'  —  again  a  German 
irony  —  poured  fire  and  death  over  the  fly- 
ing, unhappy  ones.  His  father,  mother,  two 
sisters,  and  a  hundred  others  were  killed,  and 
he,  wounded,  thrown  into  the  mud.  Our  sol- 
diers, retreating,  found  him  and  picked  him 
up.  But  with  him  they  also  picked  up  the 
tetanus.  Again  a  scholar's  controversy  in  the 
time  of  peace;  whether  it  be  animal  or  fun- 
gus; it  lives  in  darkness,  mud,  stables,  and  so 
much  likes  human  blood  that  when  it  grasps 

^  One  of  the  latest  models  of  German  aeroplanes. 
107 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


the  red  canals  it  soaks  up  the  blood  in  a  very 
short  time.  It  is  said  that  this  is  a  most  ter- 
rible death,  for  these  animals  —  or  mush- 
rooms, if  you  wish  —  do  not  have  the  taste  for 
such  things  as  brain  and  soul,  so  a  man  is  con- 
scious to  the  very  last  moment  —  in  this  case 
a  little  child!" 

My  hair  stood  on  end  at  these  words.  There 
were  so  many  pains,  bitternesses,  astonish- 
ments that  I  was  unable  to  comprehend,  that 
I  felt  myself  w^eakening  as  from  an  ugly, 
nauseating  debility.  Bata  was  stiff  and  pale 
as  death,  but  on  Spale's  face  the  same  smile 
still.    The  smile  of  happiness ! 

Next  to  this  child  was  a  man  crucified  on 
his  bed,  dreadful  as  the  dreams  after  a  bloody 
battle.  He  was  uncovered,  both  legs  were 
sheathed  in  large,  white  metal  cases.  His 
body  rested  on  his  bent  elbows  which  were 
pressed  into  the  bed.  His  head  hung  back- 
ward, his  long  black  hair  fell  back  on  the  pil- 
low. His  mouth  was  wide  open,  but  not  a 
sound  was  to  be  heard. 

"He  is  my  Christ,"  said  Spale,  although 
we  did  not  ask  him.  "Looking  upon  him,  I 
108 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


finally  got  the  idea  how  much  the  Son  of  God 
must  have  suffered  when  he  was  nailed 
against  the  wood.  And  this  unhappy  one  is 
nailed,  too,  crucified  as  nobody  else  of  his 
time.  His  legs  are  nailed  to  the  bed  by 
wounds,  for  both  are  crushed,  and  his  arms 
are  nailed  by  his  own  will  in  order  to  protect 
his  back  on  which  are  four  wounds.  .  .  .  From 
a  Bulgarian  knife,  gentlemen!  When  the  Bul- 
garian bullet  sped  through  his  knees,  half  an 
hour  later  the  Bulgarian  knife  fell  upon  his 
back,  for,  oh,  daring!  he  still  moved.  I  think 
he  is  equal  to  Christ,  for  he  is  silently  suffer- 
ing and  dying.  He  is  a  man.'* 

Unwillingly  our  look  went  toward  the  cor- 
ner where  the  last  bed  was  separated  from 
Spale  by  the  stove. 

*'Not  there!"  exclaimed  Spale.  "As  much 
as  I  have  strengthened  my  aesthetic  feelings 
looking  upon  these  five  beds,  these  five  men, 
who  are  dying  manfully,  beautifully,  mag- 
nificently, insomuch  '  this '  would  destroy,  not 
only  aesthetic,  but  every  single  feeling.  This 
is  something  which  we  are  unable  to  grasp, 
but  which  kills.'* 

109 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


Just  because  of  these  words,  we  bent  lower, 
by  a  foolish  instinct  of  curiosity,  to  look  into 
this  corner.  No,  no,  this  is  impossible!  The 
words  are  not  yet  invented  for  this!  Only, 
there  in  the  corner,  in  the  twilight,  was  some- 
thing which  still  lived! 

And  between  those  beds,  between  that  hor- 
ror, this  beautiful  death,  this  wonder,  this 
dream,  these  incredible  things,  these  flowers, 
perfume,  rosy  light,  moved  a  white  shadow, 
tender,  beautiful,  gracious,  pale,  sad,  suffer- 
ing, bowing  by  the  side  of  death.  It  was  all  in 
white,  with  rosy  shadows  in  the  folds,  and  with 
red  crosses  on  breast  and  forehead.  To  this 
shadow  the  giant  spoke:  "Sister,  tobacco!" 

"Angel!"  exclaimed  Spale  with  emotion, 
noticing  that  we  looked  upon  her.  "Looking 
at  this  girl  and  feeling  her  goodness  I  realized 
how  painter  and  poet  came  to  create  the  idea 
of  an  angel."  Then,  following  his  thoughts 
and  wishing  to  fill  up  his  introduction,  he 
continued :  — 

"Simple  story,  brothers!  Simple  and  usual, 
for  thousands  like  her  are  in  this  land.  She 
was  young,  she  was  beautiful,  she  was  inno- 
110 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


cent  and  happy.  She  lived  and  sang  in  the 
warm  free  Httle  nest  beside  the  good  father 
and  dear  mother,  awaiting  the  time  when  she 
would  start,  in  her  liberty,  to  create  her  own 
nest.  Now  the  nest  is  destroyed,  the  father 
killed,  the  mother  dead  from  typhus  and  sor- 
rows, and  she  remains  alone.  From  an  in- 
nocent girl  she  became  a  woman  ...  a  woman 
who,  in  a  dreadful  moment,  in  a  rough  and 
cruel  time,  has  decided  her  position,  ruled  by 
the  instinct  of  her  sex.  And,  guided  by  the 
advice  of  her  heart  and  instinct,  seeing  that 
man,  her  defender,  her  connection,  her  half, 
her  life,  is  dying,  perishing,  she  became  an 
angel!  Before,  her  name  was  Beeserka  (lit- 
tle pearl),  now,  simply  Sister.  And  to-day 
she  is  doing  wonders  with  her  angelic  heart 
and  white  hands.  Never  a  man  would  do  for 
his  brother  what  she  has  done  for  a  stranger! 
When  yesterday  the  doctors  called  her  to 
fly  with  them,  she  lighted  the  cigarette  for 
the  giant  and  said  to  him:  'Meeka,  always 
when  your  cigarette  is  gone,  you  have  only  to 
say:  *' Sister,  tobacco!'"  The  doctors  were 
astonished  when  she  said  that,  shrugged  their 
111 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


shoulders  and  left;  slie  remained.  We  all 
know  we  must  die,  but  she  makes  death  beau- 
tiful, easy,  tender,  as  a  dream  in  which  we 
hear  the  songs  of  angels.  Every  morning  she 
brings  flowers.  See!  Many,  many  chrysan- 
themums! And  when  she  is  standing  at  the 
open  door,  in  the  morning  sunlight,  with  her 
arms  full  of  these  beautiful  flowers,  when  her 
white  cheeks,  beautiful  dark  eyes,  and  red 
cross  appear  amidst  the  little  white  and  red 
blossoms,  so  full  of  life  and  morning  fresh- 
ness, I  cry  in  greeting  her :  '  Good-morning, 
little  angel  with  chrysanthemums!'  She 
comes  close  to  my  bed,  puts  the  sweet  fresh 
chrysanthemums  on  my  breast  and  around 
my  head,  and  everywhere.  Their  perfume  in- 
toxicates me  and  puts  me  to  dreaming,  dream- 
ing .  .  .  Thus  she  makes  us  already  feel 
paradise  .  .  ." 

She  slowly  came  to  Spale's  bed  with  a  beau- 
tiful, hesitating  smile,  sat  down  beside  him, 
and  began  tenderly  to  caress  his  forehead  and 
hair.  Then,  looking  at  him  with  a  sister's 
eyes,  full  of  tears,  a  perfumed  sigh  came  from 
her  angelic  breast:  — 

112 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


"MygoodSpale!" 

Spale's  breast  quickly  rose  and  fell  with 
emotion  and  happiness. 

"This  girl  has  conquered  me!"  exclaimed 
Spale,  clasping  her  hand  in  both  his  own  and 
carrying  it  to  his  lips.  The  tears  were  falling 
from  his  eyes. 

It  came  to  me  to  kneel  before  these  two  be- 
ings, these  Serbians,  and  say  prayers  to  God. 


We  sat  for  a  long  time,  and  Spale  continued 
to  speak. 

We  had  already  seen  so  many  horrors  that 
our  hearts  quickly  got  the  habit,  and  we  be- 
came used  to  this  room,  and  to  that  unhappy 
Pole,  and  poor  Dooshan,  and  the  giant  who 
every  once  in  a  while  called  for  tobacco  and 
at  whose  call  the  sister  would  jump  from 
Spale's  bed  and  go  to  him,  and  to  the  quiver- 
ing movement  of  the  little  child  to  whom  the 
Sister  would  go,  glancing  upon  his  face  with  a 
heart-broken  look.  She  would  stand  silently 
by  him  with  a  heavy  heart,  for  she  could  do 
nothing  for  him.  Only  she  would  bow  over 
113 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


him  and  kiss  the  pale  white  forehead.  The 
child  wanted  to  tell  her  something,  but  the 
dreadful  disease  had  closed  his  jaws  so  power- 
fully that  only  anguished  shrieks  came  from 
his  breast.  But  eyes,  little  dark  eyes  full  of 
tears,  spoke  in  beautiful  words:  "Thank  you, 
thank  you"  .  .  .  And  to  everything  else  we 
became  used  in  those  few  hours,  for,  my  God ! 
the  human  heart  suffers,  and  throbs  and  lives 
in  order  to  suffer  still  more. 

On  Spale's  face  still  the  same  smile,  the 
same  flood  of  words.  We  listened  to  him  sit- 
ting in  a  black-and-white  half  dream.  Evi- 
dently Bata  was  suffering  torture,  for  his  face 
was  deadly  pale  and  his  eyes  closed.  I  was, 
while  listening  to  Spale's  words,  flying  to  the 
past  in  my  thoughts,  to  those  beautiful  days 
in  which  there  was  so  much  sun,  happiness, 
and  liberty.  And  through  this  chain  of  sweet 
memories  flashed  the  fiery  words:  He  has  to 
die! 

Presently  Spale  became  serious.  His  eyes 
became  still  more  shining.  He  pressed  with 
his  elbows  against  the  bed  and  lifted  his  head, 
and  in  a  sure  and  powerful  voice  he  said :  — 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


"Why  are  you  so  pale?  What  are  you  re- 
gretting? Me?  Foolishness!  Do  you  not 
understand  this  time,  this  century?  You  see, 
the  earth  is  boiling,  millions  are  dying,  some- 
thing is  being  created!  In  my  half-dead  life, 
I  come  closer  to  the  power  which  rules  over 
creation.  The  power  described  in  the  'Le- 
gendes  des  Siecles.'  No,  no,  you  can't  under- 
stand this,  but  believe  in  me.  I  have  suc- 
ceeded in  explaining,  in  living  through  great 
mysterious  things  in  this  dream  of  death.  I 
am  happy,  I  still  have  enough  life  to  awaken 
and  tell  this  to  you. 

"Do  you  remember  my  'Fence'?  The 
eternal,  strong  iron  fence  in  this  world  which 
divides  man  from  man.  This  is  that  which 
aches  the  most  in  the  heart  of  man.  Studying 
abroad,  I  felt  this  ache,  this  pain  myself,  and 
in  my  sincerity  and  my  ideal  youth  I  made 
the  little  picture  which  I  called  'The  Fence.* 
'Little,  but  the  greatest  truth,'  you  said, 
Bata,  when  you  saw  it  for  the  first  time.  Now 
the  colors  begin  to  speak.  In  front  the  road, 
dusty,  rough,  full  of  clods,  endless,  painful, 
the  road  of  unhappiness  over  which  rolls  the 
115 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


life  of  common  men,  of  millions  of  poor  ones, 
of  workers,  of  democrats,  in  heat,  and  in  ice; 
behind  it  in  a  garden,  full  of  green,  and  blos- 
soms, flowers,  and  perfume,  rosy  rays,  bright 
sunlight,  life  of  happiness  and  abundance, 
was  the  place  where  lived  the  aristocracy. 
And  between  this  road  and  that  garden,  the 
fence,  strong  iron  and  steel.  The  misery  of  the 
destiny  of  all  human  life  through  centuries  did 
its  most  terrible  injustice,  when  it  was  per- 
mitted that  those  on  the  unhappy  road  could 
look  through,  between  the  bars,  into  the  gar- 
den. 

**  Centuries  long  has  this  life  fled.  Centuries 
long  these  people  of  the  road  have  suffered, 
carrying  the  fruits  of  their  pain  to  the  gates 
of  the  fence,  which  only  open  to  receive  them 
and  close  immediately.  But  time  is  the 
teacher,  and  sufferings  are  not  everlasting. 
The  people  begin  to  awake,  to  revolt,  seeking 
rights  and  justice.  And  through  centuries 
the  suffering  crowd  of  miserables  attack  the 
fences.  Some  of  them  were  destroyed  and 
equality  and  happiness  were  created;  the 
others  became  stronger;  still  more  iron  was 
116 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


put  upon  them.  Then  among  the  people  the 
spirit  arose,  and,  in  individuals,  right,  which 
gave  them  the  power  called  '  democracy.'  The 
power  of  the  people  was  growing  even  amidst 
their  sufferings  and  pains,  and  the  spirit  and 
the  right  were  becoming  stronger  and  stronger. 
In  their  abundance  and  happiness,  in  their 
fear,  terror,  astonishment,  with  their  old  des- 
potic spirit,  those  in  the  garden  made  their 
fences  still  stronger  and  stronger.  You  see, 
there  was  a  storm  in  the  atmosphere  .  .  .  you 
see,  the  time  had  to  come  when  the  destiny 
of  man  had  to  be  solved.  This  is  the  meaning 
of  this  war.  Man  is  fighting  for  his  life,  for 
equality.  Yes,  man  is  destroying  the  fences. 
This  is  unyielding  justice. 

*'This  fight  is  now  on.  Do  you  see,  do  you 
feel,  that  the  earth  is  now  shaking.'*  The  cities 
are  destroyed,  the  churches  are  gone,  the 
mountains  are  leveled,  all  traces  of  the  for- 
ests are  lost,  millions  are  dying.  For  this  is 
the  fight  of  the  people  for  democracy.  For 
this  is  the  only  way  of  the  future,  for  this  is 
the  only  road  to  the  final  happiness  of  hu- 
manity. The  Spirit  of  this  century  is  fight- 
117 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


ing  now  with  the  whole  of  History  from  its 
creation.  Now  this  earth  is  in  the  status-nas- 
cendi,  in  the  moment  of  creation,  in  which, 
by  natural  laws,  when  two  opposite  elements 
meet,  an  explosion  has  to  come  —  the  ex- 
plosion is  this  world  war,  the  explosion  which 
will  crush  out  twenty  million  lives,  but  will 
destroy  the  fences.  You  hear  me  —  destroy 
the  fences,  for  the  flood  of  the  blood  of  twenty 
millions  has  no  hindrances.  And  just  as  in 
the  last  century  Waterloo  was  not  gained  by 
Wellington  and  Bliicher,  but  by  God  and  the 
Spirit  of  that  time  when  the  people  tried  to 
destroy  the  fences,  so  it  is  to-day,  now,  the 
Kaiser  has  to  perish,  for  against  him  are  not 
armies,  but  God,  Democracy,  and  the  Spirit 
of  the  twentieth  century.  You  see  this 
Spirit  ..." 

Suddenly,  oh,  is  it  a  dream?  An  indescrib- 
able red  light  glared,  and  the  windows,  with 
a  terrible  crash,  flew  into  the  room,  scattering 
glass  upon  the  beds  and  floor.  A  raging  pres- 
sure tore  into  the  room  and  threw  everything 
down.  Then  came  an  explosion  which  waved 
out  into  the  infinite.  Its  gigantic  rings  on 
118 


THE   FALL  OF  NISH 


their  flashing  road  shook  this  immense  build- 
ing. Immediately  after,  darkness  and  silence. 
The  electric  light  was  gone. 

'*God,  what  is  it?"  exclaimed  the  Sister. 

"They  are  setting  the  powder  magazines 
on  fire,  they  are  destroying  the  bridges  and 
everything,"  I  said,  shivering. 

Then  again,  another  explosion,  a  third,  a 
fourth.  In  this  building  of  misery  all  were 
awake  and  moving.  We  heard  noise,  exclama- 
tions, moans,  screaming,  terrible  screams. 
Doors  were  opening.  Then  steps,  running, 
falling.  A  dull,  distant  noise  came  from  the 
town  —  the  tumult  of  frightened  people.  But 
in  this  room,  far  from  everything  which  has 
to  do  with  life,  in  the  darkness,  in  this  icy 
horror  and  agony,  was  silence,  and  only  the 
light  of  the  cigarette  of  the  giant  quickly  ap- 
pearing and  disappearing.  The  Pole  and  Doo- 
shan  were  motionless,  knowing  nothing  about 
this.  The  weak  moaning  of  the  child  broke 
the  heavy  silence  of  the  room. 

"Now  they  are  destroying  a  hundred  years 
of  life  and  liberty!"  Spale's  voice  quivered 
in  the  darkness.  "Yes,  everything  which  we 
119 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


created  in  a  hundred  years,  is  destroyed  in  a 
few  weeks.  Poor  Serbia!  The  explosion  of 
this  century  has  crushed  out  not  only  lives, 
but  the  whole  country.  This  is  the  destiny. 
Yet,  yet,  understand  me.  Liberty  creates  the 
Nation;  the  Nation,  Liberty  and  Democracy, 
both.   It  creates  the  future." 

Fires  arose  soon  after  these  explosions. 
There,  far  through  the  shattered  windows, 
over  the  Nishava,  in  the  "Old  Fortress,"  an 
immense  tongue  of  flame  licked  the  black 
sky. 

A  thick  smoke,  full  of  a^^ul  smells,  envel- 
oped the  whole  town.  It  entered  this  room 
and  poisoned  the  breath  and  blinded  the  eyes 
of  these  poor  creatures.  It  was  more  than  ter- 
rible! Ruin  and  death  ruled! 

"They  have  set  on  fire  all  magazines,  fac- 
tories, barracks,  stables,  hospitals,  houses," 
said  Bata. 

The  dull,  frightening  noise  still  came  from 
the  town.  The  faint  red  light  of  distant  con- 
flagrations danced  upon  the  white  walls, 
painting  the  shadows  of  hell.  In  the  building 
still  sounded  exclamations,  moans,  steps,  and 
120 


THE   FALL  OF  NISH 


running.  Yes,  the  Bulgarians  are  coming, 
they  are  close. 

*'I  am  going,"  suddenly  exclaimed  the 
giant  in  a  dreadful,  resolute  voice,  and  lifted 
himself  from  the  bed.  He  looked  tremen- 
dously tall  and  large,  in  this  darkness,  smoke, 
and  red  light.  We  jumped.  The  Sister 
screamed  and  ran  toward  him. 

"Where  in  the  name  of  God  are  you  go- 
ing?" the  poor  Sister  screamed,  grasping  him 
by  the  hand  and  pulling  him  toward  the  bed. 
He  tore  his  hand  from  her  grasp  and  straight- 
ened himself.  The  bandage  around  his  arm 
and  breast  seemed  to  me  unnaturally  large. 

"I  will  not  be  a  slave  while  I  am  alive,"  he 
said  with  the  same  sharp,  resolute  voice. 

"But  you  will  die  on  the  road,"  wept  the 
poor  Sister. 

"Yes,  but  free,"  interrupted  the  giant  in 
the  same  manner. 

"This  is  impossible,  you  must  remain  .  .  . 
you  hear  me,  you  must  remain!  The  Ameri- 
can doctors  are  here  and  they  will  defend 
you,"  desperately  exclaimed  the  poor  girl. 

We  were  standing,  petrified,  astonished. 
121 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


Only  I  felt  a  powerful,  unconquerable,  strong 
yet  bitter  pride. 

"Poor  American  doctors,  they  do  not  know 
the  Bulgarians,"  continued  the  giant,  "but 
/  know  them.  I  still  have  the  strength.  I  can 
still  carry  myself.  I  want  to  die  free,  —  hear. 
Sister,  jree  I  I  beg  of  you,  for  the  last  time, 
do  me  a  favor.  Throw  my  overcoat  over  my 
shoulders  and  put  on  my  shoes." 

"Go,  go,  Meeka,  go  while  you  can,"  spoke 
for  the  first  time  the  man  who  was  crucified 
on  the  bed.  This  voice  I  will  never ^  never 
forget. 

And  the  Sister  bowed  . . .  oh,  good  soul,  holy 
became  the  memories  of  you  to  me!  When 
she  had  put  on  his  shoes  and  placed  the  over- 
coat upon  him,  the  giant  started.  Suddenly  he 
stopped,  turned,  and  the  big  figure  quivered 
for  a  moment.  Then  he  slowly  came  to  the 
white  girl,  who  stood  like  a  stone,  bowed  over 
her,  and  kissed  the  red  cross  on  her  forehead. 
Then  he  quickly  straightened  himself  and 
pulled  wide  open  the  door.  On  the  threshold 
he  turned  for  the  last  time  and  exclaimed  in 
an  unforgettable  voice,  "A  Serbian  while  he 
122 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


is  living  will  never  be  a  slave,"  and  closed  the 
door. 

I  pressed  both  hands  over  my  face  and 
mouth,  in  order  to  stifle  something  which 
wanted  to  fly  from  my  breast.  It  was  that 
which  kills.  Slave!  What!  My  Spale  to  be  a 
slave .f*  This  man,  this  Serbian?  This  artist 
who  for  love  of  his  Serbia  had  created  "A 
Kiss".?  The  kiss  with  which  Veela,  the 
maiden,  our  symbol  of  beauty,  Serbia  in  her 
happiness,  kisses  the  sweet  sigh  of  liberty, 
which  wafts  over  the  blue  and  charming  land 
of  Serbian  poetry?  And  he  to  be  a  slave? 
There  is  no  greater  cruelty  than  this!  God 
left  him  only  so  much  life  that  he  could  see 
to-morrow  how  the  Bulgarian  boot  will  en- 
ter this  sacred  room,  how  the  most  brutal 
of  voices  will  exclaim:  "In  the  name  of  the 
law  and  Tsar  Ferdinand." 

Deep  silence  was  in  the  room.  In  the  dis- 
tance the  fires  flamed  higher  and  higher, 
spreading  out,  gaining  power.  The  red  smoke 
rolled  under  the  black  sky.  The  tumult  from 
the  town  became  more  distinct,  the  panic  of 
unhappy  women  and  children  which  wiped 
123 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


out  their  lives.  A  terrible  noise  was  in  this 
building.  Men  were  going  out.  Wagons 
thundered  endlessly  on  the  road.  Now  and 
then  explosions  shook  the  earth. 

The  Serbian  heart,  old,  gray,  good  Nish  is 
dying. 


The  dawn  came.  Spale  was  silent.  His  eyes 
were  closed.  The  Sister's  hand  was  on  his 
forehead  —  a  white,  beautiful,  tired  butter- 
fly upon  a  torn  flower. 

The  explosions  had  stopped.  The  flames 
could  no  longer  be  seen.  The  sun,  which  was 
burning,  had  conquered  them.  Only  the 
smoke  —  black,  thick,  poisonous  —  hung  un- 
der the  blue  sky. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  the  room  was  terribly 
cold.  The  overthrown  chrysanthemums  were 
scattered  on  the  table.  The  water  from  the 
bowls  was  splashed  over  the  floor.  Piles  of 
broken  glass  glittered  in  the  room.  The  giant's 
empty  bed  in  the  middle  looked  icy  cold.  The 
Pole's  arm  had  finally  fallen;  he  was  motion- 
less and  for  a  long  time  silent.  Was  he  dead? 
124 


THE   FALL  OF  NISH 


From  Dooshan's  bed  still  came  something 
weak,  painful,  something  which  was  vanish- 
ing. The  child's  thin  figure  was  still  shaking. 
The  crucified  man  was  dreadfully  silent.  That 
dark  corner,  behind  the  stove,  seemed  like  a 
source  of  death,  from  which  ice  and  horrors 
poured  out. 

Finally  the  sun  appeared.  The  fresh  rosy- 
red  rays  entered  through  the  broken  windows 
and  stopped  at  Spale's  pillow.  They  were 
playing  there.  They  were  beautiful.  There 
was  bitter  irony  and  strange  happiness  in  this 
moment. 

"The  sun!"  sighed  Bata,  as  if  he  had 
awakened  from  a  deep  and  heavy  dream. 

"Sun,"  whispered  Spale,  and  opened  his 
eyes. 

Upon  his  face  again  the  old  smile  was  shin- 
ing. Around  his  head,  all  over  the  white  pil- 
low, in  his  beautiful  hair,  the  joyful  rays  were 
smiling.  His  eyes  gleamed  wonderfully,  and 
his  hands  were  shaking. 

"I  feel  its  warmth.  Good  sun,  sweet  rays," 
he  spoke  as  one  in  a  dream.    Suddenly  he 
grasped  the  Sister's  hand :  — 
125 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"I  beg  you,  Sister,  turn  me  around,  I  want 
to  kiss  them  for  the  last  time.'* 

The  Sister  trembled,  and  for  a  moment 
seemed  like  one  fainting.  On  Spale's  face  was 
a  smile,  still  more  beautiful,  still  more  charm- 
ing, and  with  a  tender  glance  he  caressed  the 
white  figure.  The  Sister  slowly,  painfully  got 
up.  She  looked  unwinkingly  in  his  face  for 
some  time,  then  she  gently  took  his  head  and 
shoulder  and  turned  him  toward  the  pillow. 
The  dead  leg  fell  over  the  other.  Spale  looked 
for  a  moment  at  the  rosy  rays,  then  quickly 
bowed  his  head,  and  buried  his  lips  in  the 
sunny  pillow. 

"Farewell,  farewell,  my  good  ones,"  he  ex- 
claimed several  times. 

Farewell!  I  straightened  myself.  Bata 
staggered.  God!  what  does  this  mean?  What 
will  happen  now.^* 

When  the  Sister  again  put  him  down  in  the 
old  position,  the  tears  of  an  unspeakable 
happiness  were  in  his  eyes.  He  looked  upon 
us  some  time  as  in  an  ecstasy.  Then,  under- 
standing our  deadly  fear,  he  said  in  the  gen- 
tlest voice:  — 

126 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


"Why  are  you  so  frightened?  Why  are  you 
again  so  pale?  You  know  that  I  hate  that 
yellow  color  .  .  .  and  this  is  so  natural.  At 
least,  you  have  to  understand  me.  They  said 
I  could  live  a  whole  month,  perhaps  longer  if 
I  had  good  care.  Thanks  .  .  .  whole  month. 
What!  A  Bulgarian  to  take  care  of  me?  What! 
To  live?  To  see  how  the  Bulgarian  animals 
enter  this  room,  committing  sacrilege  against 
all  its  holiness,  throwing  the  flowers  of  this 
angel  under  their  feet?  Oh,  my  good  friends, 
can  you  not  see  what  a  great  impossibility? 
This  girl  understands  me.  When  God  did  not 
kill  me  to  keep  me  from  seeing  this  last  hor- 
ror. His  angel  will  .  .  .  Why  are  you  shaking, 
Sister?  Your  promise,  your  promise!  You 
are  doing  your  best  work  when  you  inject 
scopolamin  into  my  dead  body.  And  the 
spirit!  The  spirit  will  fly  into  the  air  where 
there  is  endless  liberty,  and  remain  in  your 
hearts,  living  eternally.  This  is  paradise! 
Think!  To  die  in  a  sweet  dream,  knowing  that 
I  press  the  hands  of  my  friends,  knowing  that 
I  look  on  my  brothers,  these  heroes  dying, 
but  still  in  the  arms  of  liberty,  knowing  that 
127 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


I  am  beside  an  angel,  thinking  constantly  of 
my  poor  mother.  Yes,  my  good  mother  .  .  . 
and  knowing  that  I  died  for  my  country, 
knowing  that  I  am  still  jree^ 

He  fixed  his  beautiful  look  upon  the  white 
figure  of  marble,  the  look  which  said:  "I  am 
ready." 

And  the  woman  with  her  last  power,  for- 
getting everything,  the  instinct  of  her  sex, 
the  loss  of  her  half,  her  connection,  her 
future,  the  imperative  desire  of  her  life,  from 
doll  to  motherhood,  hearing  only  the  tragedy 
of  her  Serbian  heart,  her  angelic  look  replied: 
"And  I,  also,  am  ready!" 


We  stopped  at  the  big  door  of  the  hospital. 
I  was  so  weak  that  I  thought  I  could  move  no 
more.  Bata  was  still  deadly  pale,  an  ugly 
yellow  color  had  flooded  his  face.  I  was  lean- 
ing against  the  door.  Through  the  wide-open 
gate  we  saw  the  soldiers  passing  along  the 
road.  The  last  Serbian  soldiers  are  marching 
through  Nish.  Black,  ragged,  muddy  up  to 
the  neck,  bent  forward,  these  heroes  were  go- 
128 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


ing.  Do  not  ask  for  their  feelings.  They  are 
silent.  They  are  silent.  They  suffer  and  die, 
and  again  suffer  and  die,  and  they  are  again 
silent;  as  if  they  knew  that  the  most  suitable 
language  for  a  tragedy  is  silence. 
y  The  wind  now  carried  the  heavy  smoke  to- 
ward the  Bulgarians.  The  gigantic  and  terri- 
ble flames  waved  over  the  "Old  Fortress." 
The  little  white  silent  houses  were  bathed  in 
the  ocean  of  morning  sunlight.  And  the  sun 
is  shining  .  .  .  God!  is  that  an  irony?  Or 
something  which  we  do  not  understand? 

Finally  we  started.  For  the  last  time  I 
turned  toward  the  building  with  large  black 
holes.  "Farewell,  my  little  one,"  I  whispered 
within  myself.  The  tremendous  sorrow,  rag- 
ing unhappiness,  dreadful  strokes,  became  a 
heavy  eternal  bitterness  of  tragedy. 

The  streets  were  empty  and  dead.  Every- 
thing was  closed.  The  soldiers  went  in  one 
direction.  Sometimes  the  cannon  thundered 
over  the  pavement,  sometimes  cavalry.  A 
silent,  dark,  dreadful  shadow  crept  near  the 
walls,  the  wounded,  fearful,  half  dead,  with 
crutches,  slowly,  painfully,  with  their  last 
129 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


strength  were  trying  to  buy  their  liberty. 
Some  of  them  had  already  succeeded. 

At  the  market  before  the  Hotel  Orient  was 
a  group  of  men,  a  few  old  men,  two  ministers 
and  an  old  woman.  Were  they  alive?  They 
were  motionless  with  their  looks  fixed  upon 
the  ground.  They  were  gathered  to  go  before 
the  Bulgarians  and  to  beg  of  them  (oh,  my 
God!)  to  spare  the  women  and  children.  Poor 
men !  Only  a  few  days  after  you  were  the  first 
ones  to  be  hanged. 

The  big  steel  bridge  over  the  Nishava,  com- 
pletely wrecked,  hung  from  its  two  ends  in 
the  muddy  river,  whose  turbulent  waters 
streamed  over  it.  Farther  below,  the  large 
wooden  bridge  was  still  burning. 

Around  the  white  cathedral  we  met  old 
women,  who,  disregarding  fear  and  their  old 
age,  went  into  the  church,  with  a  candle  in 
their  shaking  and  bony  hands,  to  say  prayers 
to  God,  kneeling  before  the  holy  ikonas.  For 
what. 5^  Old  unhappy  heart  of  the  mother 
knows,  and  it  believes.  Some  of  them  were 
screaming  loudly  while  going. 

A  woman  gave  wine  from  a  window.  The 
130 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


soldiers  drank  it  without  a  word.  In  the 
charsheea  where  the  shops  were,  the  pave- 
ment was  covered  with  merchandise  which 
had  been  thrown  out  of  the  shops,  so  that  the 
soldiers  might  carry  it  away.  A  few  of  them 
bent  and  gathered  up  some,  others  shrugged 
their  shoulders  and  jumped  over  the  piles, 
for  the  time  had  passed  many  centuries  ago 
for  omnia  meum  mecum  porto. 

At  the  railroad  station,  horrors:  iron  and 
steel  in  monstrous  piles  all  twisted,  melted, 
and  broken;  the  locomotives  with  their  noses 
in  the  middle  of  these  piles;  rails  and  switches 
like  serpents  over  the  earth.  Many  buildings 
were  destroyed  to  their  foundations,  whose 
remnants  covered  these  piles  of  iron  and  steel. 

In  front  of  the  railroad  station  was  an  im- 
mense building,  perhaps  one  of  the  largest 
buildings  in  Serbia.  Before,  it  was  a  military 
school;  now,  it  was  a  hospital.  Dreadful,  in- 
describable shadows  were  standing  at  un- 
countable black  holes  looking  down  upon  the 
soldiers  who  were  passing.  These  were  the 
wounded.  Fifteen  hundred  remained  in  this 
building.  Like  a  vision  of  something  unimag- 
131 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


inable  these  creatures  were  standing  in  the 
windows.  There  are  moments  when  a  stone 
may  weep;  now,  this  building  was  crying. 
Destiny  had  left  so  much  life  to  these  un- 
happy ones  that  they  could  become  slaves. 
Some  hands  wrapped  in  white  waved  to  us 
from  these  black  holes.  It  seemed  as  if  they 
were  saying:  "Good-bye,  most  happy  among 
living  ones !  '*  This,  too,  was  irony. 

When  we  came  out  from  the  town  we  found 
our  battalion.  We  stopped  on  a  hill.  The 
town  was  lying  at  our  feet  —  the  town  of 
flame,  of  smoke,  of  horrors,  of  unhappiness, 
the  town  of  slavery,  the  stage  for  Bulgarian 
wildness,  cruelty,  and  fiendishness;  and  yet 
the  town  of  Serbian  history  and  of  the  past, 
the  town  of  our  beauty  and  honesty,  the  holi- 
ness of  this  land,  old  martyr  who  suffered 
through  the  centuries,  and  our  good,  gray  old 
one  who  was  so  happy  in  its  days  of  Serbian 
liberty.   It  was  Nish  .  .  . 

Some  time  before  noon  of  this  sunny  day 

of  God,  the  Bulgarian  cavalry  entered  into  it. 

The  hoof  of  Gessler's  horse  was  stamping  in 

the  middle  of  our  heart.  And  the  next  day  the 

132 


THE  FALL  OF  NISH 


Bulgarians  were  raging  in  their  victory,  com- 
mitting every  sacrilege  in  the  midst  of  our 
gray  Nish. 

Thus  Nish  fell. 

With  piteous  cruelty  was  the  heart  of 
Serbia  torn  out,  this  beautiful,  honest,  red 
Serbian  heart  which  lived  and  throbbed  only 
for  Liberty  and  Democracy. 

The  man  who  did  this  bears  the  name  of 
Wilhelm  II  von  Hohenzollern,  and  millions 
are  still  crying:  "Hoch  der  Kaiser!'* 


II 

THE  gra\t:yard  by  the  morava 

After  the  fall  of  Nish  my  division  had 
retreated  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Morava 
River;  its  task  was  to  prevent  the  Bulgarians 
from  crossing,  and  to  keep  open  for  traffic  the 
high  road  toward  the  south  on  the  left  bank. 
The  Combined  Army  of  fifty  thousand  men 
had  to  pass  along  this  road. 

South  of  Nish,  on  the  left  bank  of  the 
river,  stretched  the  valley  of  the  Morava  for 
twenty  miles;  in  front  of  Leskovatz  this  val- 
ley became  undulating  and  ascending.  Around 
the  town  the  mountains  rose  like  a  gigantic 
amphitheater.  In  order  to  enter  the  town  one 
must  pass  through  a  wide,  natural  gateway 
between  two  beautiful  romantic  hills  which 
ended  the  amphitheater.  This  pass  faced  the 
river,  beyond  which  was  the  mountain-side 
on  which  my  division  was  intrenched.  The 
highway  from  Nish  and  Kruschevatz  went 
through  the  central  part  of  the  valley  and 
134 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 


turned  to  the  left  near  Leskovatz,  leading  on 
through  the  pass  and  the  town  into  the  moun- 
tain fastnesses.  If  the  whole  Combined  Army 
could  get  through  this  pass  it  would  be  secure; 
then  my  division  could  take  positions  around 
the  town  in  natural  fortresses,  where  they 
could  easily  defend  the  place  and  hold  the 
enemy  back  until  the  Combined  Army  had 
time  to  escape  beyond  the  mountains.  But 
could  this  be  done? 

The  Bulgarian  army  had  not  attacked  us 
for  some  time  with  infantry,  but  had  dis- 
charged their  wicked  shells,  which  exploded 
high  above  us,  staining  the  pure  blue  of  the 
skies  with  smoke.  I  took  advantage  of  this 
respite  to  look  through  my  field-glasses  at  the 
valley  below  me.  Thousands  and  thousands 
of  human  beings  were  creeping  along  the  val- 
ley! Here  and  there  one  could  see  masses 
moving  very  slowly.  These  masses  were  com- 
posed of  men,  women,  and  children,  oxen, 
cows,  sheep,  goats,  dogs  —  all  jammed  to- 
gether, painfully  pushing  forward.  I  could  see 
that  they  tried  to  hurry  their  slow  march,  but 
it  seemed  as  if  they  stumbled  at  each  step 
135 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


over  invisible  obstacles,  and  it  seemed  too  as 
if  some  great  force  —  the  spirit  of  their  native 
land,  perhaps  —  held  them  and  did  not  per- 
mit them  to  go  forward. 

The  homes  of  these  people  had  been  burned 
and  destroyed  without  pity.  The  fields  had 
been  trampled  and  their  fruits  ruthlessly 
crushed  into  the  earth.  The  rivers  were  flow- 
ing turbid  with  blood.  The  songs  of  the  brooks 
had  been  drowned  by  the  scream  and  crash 
of  shot  and  shell.  The  forests  had  been  up- 
rooted, broken,  ruined,  enveloped  in  smoke 
and  stench.  The  cemeteries  were  demolished 
and  desecrated,  and  the  flowers  on  the  tombs 
were  trampled  by  the  hoofs  of  horses.  The 
bells  would  never  ring  again  from  the  white 
towers  of  the  churches.  The  grandfathers  and 
grandmothers  had  been  killed  amid  the  ashes 
of  their  homes.  Song  and  happiness  were 
replaced  by  weeping  and  wailing,  the  crash 
of  artillery,  unspeakable  ferocity  and  cruelty. 
It  was  now  a  land  of  horror  from  which  they 
fled  —  this  country  which  they  thought  would 
always  be  a  land  of  happiness  and  love,  a 
flowery  corner  where  one  could  live  as  in 
136 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 

paradise.  Always  to  be  the  good  mother  — 
their  dear  native  land!  And  now?  Human 
imagination  could  not  picture  a  worse  hell. 

Fright  had  stiffened  their  limbs  and  horror 
had  palsied  their  minds.  My  glasses  showed 
me  dreadful  pictures.  A  mother  carried  her 
infant  bound  on  her  back.  She  clasped  the 
next  younger  one  to  her  breast,  and  the  older 
ones,  holding  to  her  skirt,  ran  after  her,  bare- 
footed, half-clothed,  weeping  and  crying  from 
fear,  cold,  and  hunger.  When  one  of  these 
little  ones  grew  so  weak;  when  his  little  heart 
began  to  beat  so  slowly;  when  his  little  feet, 
wounded,  cut,  bloody,  and  exhausted,  could 
no  longer  carry  his  tired  body,  and  his  tiny 
hand,  which  had  held  fast  to  his  mother's 
skirt,  was  no  longer  able  to  hold  on,  then  he 
let  go  of  the  skirt,  which  was  his  only  shelter; 
his  mother  was  lost  to  him  and  he  stood  alone. 
The  poor  woman  could  not  hear  his  appealing 
cry;  there  were  five  others  around  her  who 
were  weeping.  Suddenly  a  flock  of  frightened 
sheep  rushed  by,  and  the  child  was  thrown 
down  into  the  mud;  then  came  oxen  and  cows 
and  wagons.  Some  one  among  the  refugees, 
1S7 


SERBU   CRL'CIFIED 


who  had  not  yet  lost  his  heart  amid  this 
horror,  picked  up  the  little  body  and  threw 
it  into  a  ditch  near  the  road  that  it  might 
not  be  crushed  any  more.  In  such  times,  un- 
happy is  every  woman  who  bears  the  name 
of  mother! 

I  saw  young  girls  carn^g  white  bundles 
in  which  were  all  the  wedding  garments 
which  they  had  spim  and  woven  in  happiness 
of  heart,  always  with  songs  on  their  beautiful 
lips.  Shame,  fear,  and  horror  were  marked 
upon  their  young  faces,  for  the  victors  had  no 
pity. 

I  saw  men  and  old  woman  loaded  with 
things  saved  from  the  fire,  or  wrested  from 
the  bloody  hands  of  the  enemy.  Oh,  how  they 
staggered,  those  old  people,  under  the  weight 
of  these  precious  burdens,  all  that  remained 
of  their  former  riches,  and  the  remnant  of 
life's  labor!  Before  them  were  driven  the 
weary  and  starving  cattle.  They  begged  these 
poor  creatures  to  "go  on,  go  on,  my  dears, 
only  a  little  farther."  No  one  knows  the  num- 
ber who  died  in  that  grim  valley,  or  the  heart- 
rending scenes  there.  TMien  an  only  child 
138 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE   MORAVA 

fell,  its  mother  would  He  beside  it  and  vnth 
her  last  strength  gather  the  child  to  her 
breast  and  wait  for  their  black  fate. 

I  saw  also  the  long,  dark  lines  of  infantry. 
How  they  staggered,  wavered  and  broke,  but 
quickly  gathered  themselves  in  order  and 
marched  on!  Blackened,  ragged,  bloody, 
bearing  many  wounds,  yet,  with  resolute  looks 
and  clenched  teeth,  carrying  in  their  hearts 
faith  in  strength  and  justice,  marched  these 
men,  stronger  than  death  —  the  last  defend- 
ers of  their  native  land. 

Even'where  along  this  valley  one  could  see 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  wagons.  Some 
turned  aside  from  the  thronged  roads  into 
the  fields,  where  they  tried  to  go  on;  but  the 
horses  were  worn  out,  the  wagons  overloaded, 
the  men  had  made  their  last  efforts.  They 
could  go  no  farther;  they  remained  there, 
sunk  in  the  deep  mud. 

An  appalling  sound  rose  from  the  valley, 
the  mingled  weeping,  screaming,  and  crying 
of  children,  the  groans  of  men,  and  the  lowing 
and  bellowing  of  the  animals. 

I  leaned  my  head  against  the  cold  stone  to 
139 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


shut  out  this  horrible  scene,  and  held  both 
hands  over  my  breast  that  my  heart  should 
not  break. 


At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  colonel 
called  all  the  oflBcers  of  my  regiment.  As  my 
captain  had  been  wounded  ten  days  before,  I, 
being  the  next  oldest  officer,  had  replaced 
him  and  gone  to  the  colonel  to  take  his  orders. 
In  a  small  narrow  cup  of  the  hills,  shut  in  by 
gray  rocks,  I  found  him  with  the  other  officers 
around  him.  I  was  frightened  by  the  looks  of 
these  men.  They  were  pale,  dirty,  blood- 
stained, ragged,  exliausted,  and  unshaven. 
Some  of  them  had  bandaged  hands,  others 
had  bandaged  heads.  Most  of  them  had  no 
caps;  some  were  shivering  with  fever;  others 
could  hardly  stand  because  of  intolerable 
pain.  God!  did  /  look  the  same.'*  Could  these 
be  the  healthy,  handsome  young  men  who 
went  into  the  struggle  two  months  ago? 

As  the  youngest  I  took  the  last  place.  We 
were  all  standing  motionless,  waiting  for  or- 
ders from  the  colonel,  who  stood  before  us. 
140 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE   MORAVA 


He  looked  tenderly  upon  us;  his  eyes  dimmed, 
and  a  shadow  seemed  to  pass  over  his  face. 
His  glance  fell;  he  sighed  deeply.  Suddenly 
he  straightened  himself  and  threw  out  his 
chest;  and,  looking  upon  us  again  with  a  firm 
resolute  gaze,  thus  spoke  the  "Old  Lion":  — 

"Gentlemen,  I  could  have  sent  a  written 
order  to  you,  but  I  summoned  you  to  say 
that  our  efforts  have  been  rewarded.  We  have 
saved  the  Combined  Army.  Also  I  wish  to 
say  that  the  Vojvoda  sends  congratulations  to 
you.  And  I,  I  admire  you,  gentlemen!  This  is 
not  flattery.  You  know  that  I  cannot  flatter, 
nor  do  I  wish  to,  for  it  would  be  an  insult  to 
your  efforts  and  your  bravery.  Gentlemen, 
I  simply  admire  you  with  all  my  heart.  I  see 
what  you  have  done  and  I  know  what  you 
must  do.  Officers,  it  is  demanded  of  us  to 
defend  Lescovatz;  Serbia  demands  that  you 
die  in  order  to  save  her  other  children!" 

The  colonel  was  silent  for  a  moment.  A 
deathly  hush  fell  upon  us.  I  looked  upon  the 
men  around  me.  A  young  lieutenant  beside 
me  grasped  convulsively  at  my  hand  to  keep 
from  falling.  His  head  was  bandaged  around 
141 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


the  cheek  and  chin  with  a  dirty  cloth  through 
which  the  blood-drops  crept,  gathering  on  his 
chin  and  falling  on  his  breast.  A  captain  be- 
side him  had  a  wounded  arm  which  was  slung 
from  his  neck  in  a  colored  shawl,  beneath 
which  could  be  seen  the  hand,  red  and  swol- 
len; slowly  he  drew  up  his  other  hand  and 
placed  it  over  the  wounded  one,  that  the 
others  might  not  look  upon  it.  Another,  a 
captain,  clenched  his  teeth  to  prevent  their 
chattering  from  the  racking  fever  which  shook 
him.  But  his  clothing  shivered  as  in  the  wind. 
Farther  on  stood  a  young  major  who  was  with- 
out a  cap:  his  face  was  red,  his  hair  wet,  and 
from  his  forehead  great  drops  of  sweat  ran 
down.  One  could  see  that  he  was  consumed 
by  raging  fever.  But  in  spite  of  all  this,  when 
the  colonel  spoke  his  last  words,  every  man 
straightened  up.  Their  looks  showed  that 
they  had  understood  the  colonel  and  were 
ready  to  make  this  last  sacrifice. 

The  colonel  continued:  *'I  have  received 

orders  from  headquarters.    During  this  day 

and  the  coming  night,  the  Combined  Army  will 

pass  through  the  pass  of  Lescovatz.     You 

142 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE   MORAVA 

know  that  the  main  attack  of  the  Bulgarians 
was  against  this  army.  It  has  fought  for  a 
month  and  withstood  all  these  attacks,  sur- 
viving superhuman  efforts,  and,  at  last,  has 
marched  day  and  night  without  rest.  The 
men  are  exhausted.  Beyond  Lescovatz  are 
the  mountains,  through  which  the  advance  is 
very  difficult,  and  for  these  worn  men  it  will 
be  still  more  trying.  This  means  that  they 
must  have  time  to  reach  safety.  Our  division 
must  procure  this  for  them  by  defending 
Lescovatz.  Here  is  the  plan.  The  Twentieth, 
Eighteenth,  and  our  regiment  will  cross  the 
Morava  at  once,  and  take  the  positions  around 
the  town.  The  Fourteenth  Regiment  will  re- 
main here  with  a  detachment  of  mountain 
artillery  and  check  the  enemy  during  the  day 
and  following  night  until  three  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  when  they  will  cross  the  river,  blow- 
ing up  the  bridge  behind  them.  Meanwhile 
we  must  make  all  possible  preparations  for 
the  fight  of  the  next  day.  My  regiment  will 
defend  the  position  at  the  right  of  the  town. 
To  every  company  I  give  its  section." 

Then   the   colonel   told   the   commanders 
143 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


their  sections,  and  gave  the  precise  informa- 
tion.  Presently  he  came  to  me:  — 

**  Second  company  of  the  fourth  battalion?  '* 
he  asked  me. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"How  many  soldiers  have  you  in  your 
company?" 

"About  one  hundred  and  fifty,  sir." 

"That  means  that  you  have  lost  more  than 
a  hundred.  Take  better  care  of  your  children, 
my  boy!"  he  added  jokingly. 

I  smiled  bitterly. 

"One  hundred  and  fifty!"  continued  the 
colonel.  "That  is  a  fine  number.  Others  do 
not  have  half  as  many.  Because  of  this  I  have 
decided  to  give  you  a  very  important  posi- 
tion. You  will  occupy  the  position  at  Mirno 
Brdo  [Peaceful  Hill],  which  is  at  the  right 
side  of  the  pass.  You  will  dig  trenches  toward 
the  pass  and  the  valley.  I  will  give  you  two 
field-cannon  and  three  machine-guns.  Do 
you  see  how  /  take  care  of  my  children?  Re- 
member —  dig  the  trenches  as  deep  as  pos- 
sible and  as  soon  as  you  can.  Do  you  under- 
stand?'*, 

144 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE   MORAVA 

"Yes,  sir." 

I  was  the  last  one  to  receive  orders.  Mean- 
while the  other  commanders  went  to  places 
where  they  could  examine  the  valley  and  the 
position  of  Lescovatz.  Some  used  field-glasses 
and  all  had  maps.  I  took  my  map  to  locate 
my  "Peaceful  Hill,"  and  quickly  found  it. 

I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  struck:  I  saw  the 
mark  of  a  cemetery  on  my  position.  Unable 
to  believe  this,  I  took  my  field-glasses  to 
make  sure  that  I  was  right.  It  was  true;  I  dis- 
tinctly saw  the  crosses,  the  graves,  and  the 
white  monuments. 

A  cemetery !  I  did  not  know  what  to  think. 
The  colonel  was  moving  away.  I  ran  over  to 
him. 

"There  is  a  cemetery,  sir,  over  the  whole 
of  my  position!" 

The  colonel  looked  at  me  with  surprise  and  ^ 

smiled  bitterly.  ^ 

"I  know.   Well.?'* 

"The  firing  line  goes  along  the  crest  of  the 
hill  and  I  shall  have  to  dig  my  trenches  ^ 

through  the  middle  of  the  cemetery  among  the  \ 

5 

graves  —  f 

145 


d 


I 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


"Iknow!   Well?" 

"How  can  I  dig  up  the  graves?" 

"How?  With  pick  —  with  pick  and  shovel, 
my  boy!  Listen!  I  do  not  defend  the  dead, 
but  the  living.  I  do  not  defend  cemeteries, 
but  our  native  land.   Do  you  understand?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  I  whispered. 

"How  right  he  is!"  I  thought  to  myself; 
and  went  quickly  to  my  company. 

My  company  still  had  four  platoons.  The 
sergeants  of  these  were  good  men  and  very 
brave.  Two  of  them  I  was  especially  fond  of. 
Bora  and  Cheda.  Bora  was  a  lad  scarcely 
twenty  years  old.  He  was  a  student  in  the 
University  of  Geneva,  where  I  had  met  him 
two  years  before.  He  was  a  handsome,  well- 
built  fellow;  smiles  and  songs  were  always  on 
his  lips.  In  the  most  terrible  battles  he  had 
sung.  He  used  to  say  that  when  a  man  sings 
he  has  no  time  to  think  about  fear,  suffering, 
fatigue,  or  pain.  And  so  he  sang  and  sang.  He 
was  always  cheerful  and  never  complained. 
We  all  loved  him.  Many  times  I  have  heard 
the  soldiers  say,  "We  would  die  to  save  a  hair 
of  Bora's  head." 

146 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE   MQRAVA 

Cheda  was  the  opposite  of  Bora  —  an  older 
man,  small,  bent,  always  serious  and  quiet. 
He  was  a  peasant,  but  naturally  very  intelli- 
gent, with  a  big  heart  and  an  idealist's  soul. 
I  never  saw  a  braver  man.  In  the  most  dread- 
ful battles  he  would  put  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  give  commands  to  his  soldiers 
with  marvelous  coolness  and  calmness;  he 
never  sought  to  shelter  himself.  He  was  a 
married  man,  with  three  children.  I  loved 
him,  too!  To  Cheda  and  Bora  I  was  not  a 
commander,  but  a  real  brother. 

The  time  came  for  my  company  to  cross 
the  bridge.  The  weary  and  careworn  soldiers 
went  silently.  Perhaps  they  were  quiet  be- 
cause of  fatigue,  pain,  and  hunger,  or  perhaps 
it  was  because  /  was  very  sad,  worried  and 
anxious,  for  I  usually  talked  and  joked  with 
them.  Bora,  too,  was  quiet  for  a  while,  but 
presently  he  came  to  me,  asking  in  a  worried 
tone,  "Why  are  you  so  gloomy?" 

I  could  not  answer  him;  I  could  not  speak. 
My  head  dropped. 

But  the  lad  continued,  "Where  are  we 
going?" 

147 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"To  the  cemetery,"  I  replied  shortly. 

He  laughed.  "For  more  than  ten  days  we 
have  been  walking  in  a  cemetery!  Joking 
aside,  where  are  we  going?" 

"To  the  cemetery,  to  the  real  cemetery,  to 
dig  up  the  graves!" 

Bora  grasped  my  sleeve  and  looked  in  my 
face,  his  fine  eyes  wide  with  consternation 
and  fright.  I  saw  that  he  was  much  overcome, 
and  spoke  quietly  to  him. 

"I  have  received  orders  to  take  the  position 
at  Peaceful  Hill.  And  that  is  the  cemetery  of 
Lescovatz.  We  are  obliged  to  dig  up  the 
graves  in  order  to  make  the  trenches.  Do  you 
understand  now  .5^" 

"So  it  is  true,  after  all,"  he  said.  Then 
without  waiting  for  my  answer  he  ran  to  tell 
Cheda  the  news.  In  a  short  time  the  whole 
company  knew  where  we  were  going. 

As  I  went  on  ahead  of  my  company,  I  could 
hear  an  angry  murmur  and  now  and  then  an 
exclamation:  "This  is  sacrilege!"  "It  will 
bring  misery  to  us!"  "God  will  punish  us!" 
"Must  we  dig  up  the  dead? "  "Must  we  take 
out  the  bones  of  the  dead?" 
148 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MQRAVA 

Every  sentence  came  like  a  blow  on  my 
head.  At  the  same  time  we  fell  in  with  the 
throng  in  the  valley.  We  saw  those  who  were 
unable  to  go  on,  who  were  weeping,  or  writh- 
ing in  pain.  We  saw  the  wagons  mired  to  the 
hubs  in  the  deep  mud,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  men  clustered  round  them  had  lost 
their  reason,  for  they  were  shouting  madly, 
and  cruelly  beating  the  poor  exhausted  horses. 
And  then  we  came  to  those  who  were  dying, 
and  the  dead  lying  in  the  ditches. 

Three  regiments  had  crossed  the  river. 
They  were  trying  to  move  on  across  the  val- 
ley, but  the  confusion  and  disorder  in  the 
throng  was  dismaying.  I  could  not  endure  it 
any  longer. 

"Bring  me  my  horse!"  I  called  to  my 
orderly. 

After  I  had  mounted  I  said  to  Cheda,  "I 
am  going  ahead  to  look  over  my  position; 
you  bring  the  soldiers  to  the  cemetery.  Take 
care  that  no  one  stays  behind." 

I  spurred  my  horse  so  as  to  leave  that  hell 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

*     *     * 
149 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


How  beautiful  was  the  cemetery!  How 
quiet  it  was  there  at  Peaceful  Hill ! 

At  the  crest  of  the  hill  was  a  large  rounded 
plateau,  quite  level.  The  old  cemetery  was 
on  this  plateau.  It  was  like  a  park.  Wide 
straight  paths,  strewn  with  yellow  sand,  went 
in  all  directions,  and  above  them  great  linden 
trees  formed  beautiful  arches.  Between  the 
paths  were  the  graves,,  surrounded  by  low 
borders  of  evergreen,  or  old  iron  fences,  with 
monuments  of  black  or  white  marble,  and  a 
low  seat  of  stones  near  each  grave.  At  each 
grave  there  was  a  tiny  lamp,  in  many  of  which 
red  and  yellow  flames  burned.  And  every- 
where were  many  flowers  and  sweet  odors. 

The  citizens  of  Lescovatz  had  thought  this 
hilltop  would  always  be  large  enough  for  their 
cemetery;  but  death  had  been  busy  in  poor 
Serbia  the  last  five  years.  Because  of  this  the 
cemetery  had  extended  down  the  slopes  in  all 
directions;  in  this  new  part  were  hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  new  graves.  There  were  no 
wide  paths  between  these,  nor  high  monu- 
ments of  marble,  nor  iron  fences.  They  were 
low  mounds  with  simple  wooden  crosses  — 
150 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 


the  graves  of  soldiers.  But  still  each  grave 
had  its  lamp,  and  many  of  the  flowers  which 
grow  so  quickly  from  tears. 

I  got  off  my  horse,  hitched  him  to  a  tree, 
and  went  to  examine  the  locations  where  the 
trenches  must  be  dug.  I  went  first  to  the 
south  side  where  the  trenches  must  face  the 
pass.  When  I  reached  this  place  I  wanted  to 
cry  out  in  great  joy.  A  wide  path  ran  along 
the  crest  just  where  I  must  dig  the  trenches. 
Never  in  my  life  had  I  felt  greater  joy  and 
relief.  "If  only  it  would  be  the  same  on  the 
other  side!"  I  said  aloud  to  myself,  as  in 
prayer.  It  was  easy  to  establish  the  points 
where  the  trenches  were  to  be  dug,  for  the 
whole  space  before  the  path  was  entirely 
clear;  the  little  wooden  crosses  at  the  new 
graves  of  soldiers  below  were  almost  innu- 
merable. Lower  down  were  vineyards  and 
the  little  cabins  of  the  vine-growers.  It  was  a 
fine  place  for  my  trenches. 

Afterwards  I  went  across  to  the  east  side, 

facing  the  valley;  there  all  my  joy  and  hopes 

vanished.  Not  only  were  there  no  paths,  but 

the  old  and  new  cemeteries  overlapped.  While 

151 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


I  was  riding  to  the  cemetery  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  must  destroy  the  graves.  But 
now,  when  the  moment  came  that  I  must 
really  do  this,  I  felt  stunned,  and  my  brain 
refused  to  act.  A  cold  sweat  broke  out  upon 
my  body;  drops  trickled  down  my  forehead 
into  my  eyes  and  stung  them.  Then  the 
words  of  the  colonel  came  to  my  mind:  "I 
do  not  defend  the  dead  but  the  living."  I 
grasped  this  reason  as  a  drowning  man 
clutches  at  a  straw. 

I  examined  the  ground  where  the  line  for 
the  trenches  must  be  marked.  Here  I  would 
have  to  destroy  five  old  graves  and  two  new 
ones;  there,  I  would  have  to  dig  up  seven 
new  and  three  old  ones.  But,  after  a  while,  I 
found  a  line  between  the  graves,  which, 
though  not  very  strategic,  would  not  cross 
many  graves.  Only  four  would  have  to  be 
destroyed;  and  of  these  three  were  old;  two 
were  very  old  —  sunken,  and  so  covered  with 
grass  as  to  be  scarcely  recognizable.  The 
other  old  one  was  surrounded  by  a  black  iron 
fence,  and  a  white  marble  monument  stood 
near  the  mound,  on  which  was  chiseled  in 
152 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE   MORAVA 

golden  letters,  "To  our  good  Mama."  There 
were  many  dead  roses  on  the  grave,  but  the 
beautiful  crowns  of  the  chrysanthemums  were 
open. 

The  new  grave  was  that  of  a  soldier.  On 
the  mound  were  many  flowers,  and  a  lamp 
which  burned  in  its  tiny  white  church.  On 
the  left  side  the  earth  was  pressed  down  by 
being  knelt  upon.  At  the  head  of  the  grave 
was  a  small  red  cross  of  wood  with  the 
words  — 

YOVAN  MILICH 

Died  of  Wounds  Received 

in  the  Battle  of  Kosmaj 

October  2,  1915 

I  looked  upon  these  two  graves  sadly.  In 
one  was  lying  a  son,  a  soldier,  a  warrior,  a 
defender  of  his  native  land.  In  the  second 
a  mother  —  the  dearest  being,  the  most  holy 
person  to  her  children.  It  came  over  me  that 
I  must  kneel  before  these  graves  and  pray. 
But,  suddenly  I  looked  upon  myself.  I  was 
dirty,  disheveled,  bloodstained. 

"Men  like  me  cannot  pray  to  God!"  I  said 
aloud.  And  I  felt  that  it  did  not  pay  to  live. 
153 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


By  this  time  my  company  had  arrived  at 
the  cemetery.  The  many  experiences  which 
these  men  had  known  in  their  unending  fight- 
ing had  taught  them  where  to  go  and  what 
to  do  as  soon  as  they  came  to  a  new  situa- 
tion. But  now  they  went  hesitatingly,  they 
stopped,  they  hid  behind  each  other,  and 
all  sought  to  be  in  the  rear  line.  They  were 
frightened. 

"Third  and  fourth  platoons,  follow  me!'* 
I  said,  and  went  to  the  south  side.  When 
we  came  to  the  path  I  said  to  them,  "You  are 
lucky.  You  will  not  have  to  dig  up  the  graves. 
The  trenches  will  go  along  the  edge  of  this 
path.  You  will  start  at  this  monument  and 
end  beyond  that  tree.  You  must  begin  work 
right  away  and  try  to  finish  before  dark.  Go 
on,  men,  go  on  to  work!" 

Afterwards  I  came  back  to  the  first  place. 
Some  of  the  soldiers  were  going  from  grave  to 
grave,  reading  the  inscriptions  and  whisper- 
ing among  themselves.  Many  had  laid  down 
on  the  grass.  Some  were  asleep.  When  I 
came,  they  all  rose,  and  stood  silently  await- 
ing my  order.  It  seemed  to  me  that  they 
154 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 

stood  before  the  last  judgment.  Bora  and 
Cheda  came  to  me. 

"Listen!"  I  said  to  them.  "You  will  be- 
gin at  this  fence,  dig  over  this  new  grave  and 
those  with  white  monuments,  and  end  be- 
yond the  two  old  graves.  Begin  at  once.  We 
must  finish  this  in  four  hours.   Come  on ! " 

The  soldiers,  with  shovels  on  their  shoul- 
ders, advanced  slowly  and  hesitatingly  and 
stood  near  each  other  on  the  line  I  marked 
out.  A  great  hulking  fellow,  tanned  almost 
black,  with  bandaged  head,  the  stock  of 
whose  gun  bore  more  than  thirty  scratches 
(each  scratch  meant  that  he  had  killed  a 
man),  stood  over  the  soldier's  grave  and  with 
his  heavy  boot  kicked  at  the  earth  of  the 
mound  and  trampled  the  flowers.  I  would 
rather  he  had  trampled  on  my  heart. 

When  the  soldiers  were  all  in  line,  Cheda 
said,  "Begin!" 

Each  man  bent  and  began  to  dig  at  his 
place.  Cheda  came  to  the  big  soldier  and 
quietly  said  to  him,  "You  must  not  throw 
down  the  cross ! " 

"No  fear,  Sergeant,  it's  not  in  my  way," 
155 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


replied  the  giant,  and  struck  his  shovel  into 
the  mound. 

I  went  a  little  farther  and  sat  down  on  a 
bank,  that  I  might  not  see. 

The  sun  was  going  down.  Its  last  red  rays 
shone  through  the  crowns  of  the  lindens  whose 
yellow  and  faded  leaves  covered  the  paths  and 
the  graves.  The  trees  and  monuments  made 
long  shadows  on  the  leaf-strewn  ground, 
which  looked  like  a  beautiful  carpet  of  a 
thousand  colors,  rosy  with  the  gleam  of  the 
sunset.  The  little  lamps  on  the  graves  be- 
gan to  shine  more  brightly  and  weirdly.  At 
first  I  heard  only  the  strokes  of  picks  and 
shovels  behind  me;  then  the  soldiers  began 
to  murmur,  to  talk,  then  to  call  to  each 
other,  to  swear,  and  finally  to  laugh,  I  heard 
a  voice. 

"It  is  not  so  terrible  to  dig  here." 

"Surely,  it  is  not.  The  sexton  does  this  all 
his  life!" 

I  recognized  the  voice  as  that  of  the  giant 
who  dug  into  the  soldier's  grave. 

"Eh!  How  easy  the  shovel  goes  in  this  wet 
earth  —  like  into  a  cheese,"  said  another. 
156 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 

"In  a  cemetery  the  earth  is  always  wet  — 
with  tears!"  I  heard  Bora's  voice. 

"Dig!  dig!"  said  Cheda,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Oh,  yes!  dig!  dig!"  replied  Bora.  "It's 
all  the  same.  If  we  dig  in  the  fields,  pastures, 
vineyards,  rocks,  mountains,  forests,  or  ceme- 
teries, it  is  all  the  same;  everywhere  we  de- 
stroy human  toil  and  God's  works.  In  every 
case  we  are  sinners.  In  other  places  we  throw 
out  only  stones,  but  here  a  skull.  But  it  is  all 
the  same  anyway;  neither  can  speak,  neither 
can  feel.  Dig!  dig!" 

Presently  I  saw  an  old  man  who  was  trying 
to  hurry  toward  us.  He  was  unable  to  run, 
but  he  cried  out  something  and  made  signs 
with  his  hands.  I  rose  and  met  him  at  the 
trench.  He  was  very,  very  old,  his  hair  was 
all  white,  his  eyes  were  wide  with  horror.  He 
tried  to  speak,  but  he  had  lost  his  breath  from 
hurrying  and  no  words  came.  He  gasped  for 
breath  a  few  moments,  stretched  his  hands  to- 
ward the  soldiers  as  if  he  wanted  to  make  them 
stop,  then  cried :  — 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  men?" 

"Can't  you  see?  We're  digging  trenches!** 
157 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


said  Cheda  in  a  low  angry  voice.  He  hated 
to  be  interfered  with. 

"But  in  the  cemetery!"  exclaimed  the  poor 
old  man.  "In  my  cemetery!  Don't  you  know 
that  I  have  taken  care  of  this  cemetery  more 
than  forty  years?  I  swore  before  God  that  I 
would  keep  forever  his  holy  things.  I  do  not 
permit  this.  Do  you  understand?  I  do  not 
permit  you  to  dig  here!  It  is  impossible! 
From  a  thousand  other  places  you  choose  just 
this  to  destroy!" 

"Hey,  cheecha,  as  far  as  you  can  see  the 
trenches  are  dug  everywhere  round  the  town. 
Now  understand  me,  everywhere  they — " 
began  Bora. 

"I  don't  care!"  broke  out  the  cheecha, 
angrily,  to  Bora.  "You  can  dig  everywhere, 
you  can  destroy  everything,  you  can  do  what 
you  wish,  but  not  here  .'" 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence.  The  sol- 
diers stopped  their  work  and  watched  to  see 
what  happened. 

The  old  sexton,  seeing  this,  thought  that 
we  had  given  up  and  said  more  gently, 
"Hayde,  hayde  dobri  moye.  Fly  from  here!" 
158 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 

"That's  impossible;  we  are  not  birds," 
laughed  a  soldier. 

"What!  you  will  not  go  from  here?  You 
will  not  leave  my  graves  in  peace?" 

"I  beg  of  you,  cheecha,  go  away,"  said 
Cheda  sternly;  "go,  go  at  once,  and  get  out 
of  our  way."  And  turning  to  the  soldiers,  he 
said,  "Go  on  digging." 

The  men,  who  were  amused  at  this  scene, 
began  to  dig,  laughing.  When  the  poor  old 
man  saw  this,  he  screamed  as  if  he  had  been 
wounded,  and  rushing  to  the  giant  who  was 
digging  at  the  soldier's  grave,  grasped  his 
shovel  with  both  hands,  trying  to  take  it  away 
from  him,  and  crying,  — 

"Hae!  you  shall  not,  you  shall  not  dig  here 
while  I  am  alive!" 

The  big  soldier,  from  whom  the  devil  him- 
self could  not  wrest  anything,  held  the  shovel 
in  one  hand;  with  the  other  he  brushed  away 
the  old  man,  saying,  — 

"Let  me  alone,  cheecha.    Let  me  alone,  I 

tell  you!    If  I  had  to  defend  such  as  you, 

certainly  I  would  not  destroy  these  graves; 

but,"  pointing  to  the  valley,  "for  those  down 

159 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


there,  I  would  do  anything;  for  those  I  would 
die!" 

And,  knowing  that  he  was  right,  in  his  ex- 
citement he  pushed  the  old  man  so  hard  that 
he  fell  to  the  ground.  I  hurried  to  them,  cry- 
ing,— 

"What  are  you  doing,  you  fools?" 

Then,  for  the  first  time,  the  old  man  saw 
me.  He  crept  to  me,  clasped  my  feet  with 
his  arms,  and  weeping,  begged  me:  — 

"Oh,  sir!  sir!  I  beg  of  you,  if  you  know  God, 
don't  let  them  destroy  the  graves;  don't  let 
them  commit  a  terrible  sacrilege!  God  will 
punish  them!" 

I  bent  over  him  and  said :  — 

"Be  reasonable,  cheecha,  we  have  to  dig 
here.  This  place  is  a  very  important  strategic 
point.  If  we  do  not  defend  it,  the  Bulgarians 
will  enter  quickly  into  the  town  and  do  fright- 
ful things.  Serbia  is  dying,  cheecha,  her  peo- 
ple are  perishing.  We  have  to  do  everything 
in  order  to  save  them.  We  must  take  every 
help.  The  time  is  coming  when  we  must  take 
help  of  the  dead  too.  Understand,  the  dead 
have  to  help  us  now!" 
160 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 

The  old  sexton  looked  at  me  in  amazement, 
as  if  he  did  not  understand  me.  Suddenly  his 
head  drooped;  he  fell  to  the  ground  and  wept 
like  a  child.  Cheda  looked  at  me.  I  gave  him  a 
sign  with  my  head  and  he  went  to  the  soldiers. 

"Two  men  here!  Take  that  old  man  and 
carry  him  to  his  home,  and  say  to  his  wife,  or 
to  anybody  else,  that  they  must  leave  the 
cemetery  at  once." 

Two  soldiers  lifted  the  old  man,  taking  him 
under  the  arms,  and  went  off.  The  old  sexton 
looked  as  if  he  were  dead.  After  going  a  little 
distance,  he  jerked  himself  away  from  the  sol- 
diers, straightened  up  and  cried  in  a  solemn 
voice,  — 

"You  have  to  know  that  you  dig  your  own 
grave.  God  will  punish  you!  He  will  bury 
2/ow  to-morrow ! " 

Then  suddenly  he  collapsed  and  fell  into 
the  arms  of  the  soldiers,  an  inert  mass.  The 
men  were  laughing  and  calling,  — 

"Oh,  we  know  that!" 

"We  came  here  for  that!" 

"At  least,  we  know  that  we  will  have  a  good 
sexton!" 

161 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"Be  silent!  Work!"  said  Cheda,  angrily. 

The  soldiers  became  quiet  and  began  to 
work  again.  It  seemed  as  if  I  had  dreamed  all 
this,  that  I  was  not  alive.  I  felt  as  if  the  heart 
and  soul  had  gone  out  of  me  and  I  had  neither 
nerves  nor  brain.  I  returned  to  the  bank  and 
sat  down.  The  sun  had  set  but  it  was  still 
light.  It  was  one  of  those  beautiful  last  days 
of  autumn,  which  tell  us  that  Nature  will  soon 
die,  but  also  give  promise  of  a  new  spring- 
time. Alas!  will  the  springtime  ever  come 
to  poor  Serbia  again  ? 

For  a  while  the  soldiers  worked  quietly. 
They  saw  the  night  coming,  and  as  they  knew 
that  the  trenches  must  be  finished  before 
dark,  they  used  their  last  strength  hurriedly. 
Occasionally  I  heard  a  sad,  tired  sigh,  the 
sigh  of  a  man  who  can  no  longer  move.  Then 
I  would  hear  the  voice  of  his  friend :  — 

"Go,  go  on,  bata  [little  brother],  only  for 
a  little  longer.  We  will  have  the  whole  night 
to  rest!" 

Then  I  heard  a  strange  noise  of  many 
voices  calling,  — 

"Hee!  Bones!" 

162 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 

"How  black  and  yellow  they  are!" 

"How  large  they  are!  One  cannot  believe 
they  are  human  bones!" 

All  of  a  sudden  I  heard  an  angry  exclama- 
tion, the  cry  of  a  man  who  had  endured  for  a 
long  time  and  can  no  longer  bear  up, 

"I  cannot  work  any  longer!  I  shall  stifle! 
It  smells  horribly!" 

"What?  It  smells!"  I  heard  Bora's  voice. 
"Ha,  bato  moj,  this  is  no  perfumer's  shop,  it 
is  a  cemetery;  it  is  not  the  festival  of  Mi- 
Careme,  it  is  war.  Have  you  forgotten  the 
days  of  Cerna-Bara,  when  we  had  to  remain 
for  fifteen  days  in  our  trenches,  and  around 
us  lay  the  corpses  which  had  rotted  in  the 
summer  sun,  because  we  could  not  bury  them? 
Do  you  remember  that?" 

"I  remember,  but  it  was  not  as  — " 

"It  was  worse,"  said  Cheda  angrily.  "It 
is  not  worth  your  while  to  complain.  Better 
work!  Dig!" 

Again  they  were  silent.  Again  only  the 
stroke  of  the  picks. 

"Auh!"  cried  a  frightened  voice.  "Bora, 
look  here!  A  skull!" 

163 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


"A  skull!  Throw  it  up  here.  How  terrible 
and  cold  it  is!  Can  it  be  possible  that  this  was 
once  covered  with  flesh,  and  moved  above  the 
earth?  Brothers,  for  a  long  time  I  have  wished 
to  act  Hamlet;  finally  my  opportunity  is  here. 
No  actor  would  wish  a  better  stage.  But  in- 
stead of  applause,  it  is  the  thunder  of  cannon. 
It  is  more  magnificent !  And  instead  of  laurels, 
perhaps  I  will  get  a  bullet  through  my  fore- 
head. But  it  is  all  the  same.  This  scene  is 
worth  death!  The  story  is,  that  a  khedive, 
throwing  away  his  koran  and  his  ingiales,  gave 
liberty  to  all  his  slaves  and  the  wives  of  his 
harem.  He  stood  before  a  window  and  saw 
how  these  unhappy  ones  joyfully  breathed 
the  beautiful  air  of  liberty.  Never  khedive 
saw  a  more  magnificent  picture!  Later,  he 
committed  suicide  in  the  great  delight  of  his 
heart,  with  these  words  on  his  lips,  'These 
scenes  will  not  happen  every  day.* 

"A  skull!  Is  that  a  skull  of  a  politician,  a 
lawyer,  or  a  buyer  of  land?  Is  that  a  skull  of 
those  men  whom  Hamlet  hated  and  despised? 
No,  no,  it  is  the  skull  of  a  mother.  Do  you  see 
what  is  written  here:  *To  our  good  Mama!' 
164 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE   MORAVA 

Mother!  Sometimes  you  had  heard  those 
words,  my  poor  skull,  my  good  mother,  and 
you  were  the  happiest  among  human  beings. 
Mother!  She  is  our  source  of  life,  of  nourish- 
ment, —  our  teacher,  protector,  defender, 
angel,  love,  life  —  our  God!  All  this  is  one 
woman,  one  mother,  to  her  children.  Skull, 
what  are  you  to  me?  Nothing  but  cold,  dirty, 
dead  bones.  And  yet,  in  these  dark  sockets 
were  once  eyes,  like  those  of  my  mother, 
which  wept  with  happiness  when  I  smiled,  or 
with  pain  when  I  but  cut  my  little  finger. 
Oh!  dear  mother's  eyes!  Here  were  the  lips, 
like  the  lips  of  my  mother,  which  kissed  me 
and  called  me  'my  angel.'  Here  were  the 
cheeks,  like  the  cheeks  of  my  mother,  which 
I  kissed  uncounted  times!" 

Something  thrilled  in  my  heart  and  soul 
when  I  heard  Bora's  words.  I  felt  that  his 
words  burned  me,  scathed  me,  and  kindled 
great  pain  within  me;  but  at  the  same  time,  I 
felt  that  a  strange  warmth  was  melting  the  ice 
around  my  heart  which  had  formed  there 
during  these  last  days  of  horror.  It  seemed  to 
me  that  I  wanted  to  listen  to  his  words,  to 
165 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


drink  them  in,  and  yet,  at  the  same  time,  to 
close  my  ears  to  them.  All  the  feelings  which 
I  had  hidden  and  kept  deep  in  my  heart,  this 
good  boy,  in  his  honesty  and  youth,  had  drawn 
out  without  pity.  Never,  never  should  one 
speak  of  mother  in  the  war!  When  I  heard  the 
words  about  mother,  I  felt  as  if  I  could  not 
breathe,  and  that  I  coiild  no  longer  endure  to 
hear  him  speak,  and  I  called  out  to  him,  — 

"Stop,  Bora!  Come  here." 

Slowly  he  came  over.  He  was  pale  as 
death. 

I  was  frightened  by  his  looks,  and  I  put 
both  hands  on  his  shoulders,  shook  him  and 
said,  — 

"Bora,  be  a  man!'* 

He  looked  at  me,  then  he  smiled,  opened  his 
eyes  widely,  his  face  flushed,  and  in  an  eager 
and  excited  voice,  he  said  to  me,  — 

"God  protect  them!  Is  it  not  so?'* 

"  Yes,  Bora,  God  protect  them ! "  I  repeated, 
prayerfully;  and  suddenly  I  felt  that  a  great 
hope  had  entered  my  heart.  Just  then  the 
big  black  soldier's  voice  broke  in. 

"Lieutenant!" 

166 


GRAVEYARD  BY  THE  MORAVA 

"What  is  the  matter?" 

"A  coffin,  sir,  entirely  new!  Look!  a  fine 
red  coffin!  Here  it  is  peeping  out  from  the 
earth.  If  I  dig  deeper  it  will  take  more  than 
a  half  of  the  trench.  What  shall  I  do  now.?^" 

"The  trench  is  not  deep  enough,"  I  said 
to  him;  "dig  around  it  and  leave  it  exposed.'* 

"That  is  a  fine  idea.  For  a  long  time  you 
have  wished  to  have  a  chair  in  the  trench. 
Now  you  will  have  one!" 

"Fool!"  said  Cheda,  angrily. 

"It's  a  fine  idea,  anyway!"  said  the  big 
fellow,  chuckling,  and  he  began  to  dig. 


Ill 

THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

Darkness  came  on  rapidly.  The  old  ceme- 
tery under  the  lindens  was  entirely  dark,  but 
around  it  was  still  twilight.  In  the  valley  the 
white  mist  was  lying;  from  the  valley  rose  a 
sullen  confused  noise.  The  boom  of  the  artil- 
lery across  the  river  had  ceased.  An  icy  wind 
began  to  blow.  In  the  sky  the  first  stars  glim- 
mered, and  the  moon  rose  beyond  the  hill 
across  the  river,  big,  murky,  blood-colored. 

"Cheda,  take  care  that  the  soldiers  are 
through  soon,  and  I  will  go  to  the  other  trench 
to  see  how  much  they  have  done." 

When  I  got  there  the  men  were  in  the 
trenches.  They  had  finished.  The  sergeant 
came  to  me. 

"We  are  through,  sir." 

"Deep  enough?  The  loopholes  strong 
enough?  Very  well.  You  will  send  two  sol- 
diers who  will  hold  the  connection  between 
the  trenches." 

168 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

"Yes,  sir." 

**Mirko,  I  have  nothing  to  say  to  you.  You 
alone  know  what  is  your  duty.  I  think  we 
shall  have  a  terrible  battle  to-morrow,  but 
you  are  an  old  soldier  and  you  will  know  how 
to  hold  your  men.  One  thing  is  certain:  we 
must  stay  here  until  the  last  moment." 

"I  know  it,  sir.  Where  should  we  go  from 
here.f^  This  is  our  place  —  the  cemetery!'* 
said  the  sergeant  quietly,  as  if  he  were  speak- 
ing of  his  fields. 

I  laid  my  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"I  know  you  are  a  brave  man.  We  shall 
trust  in  God!" 

Slowly  I  returned  to  the  other  position. 
The  soldiers  were  in  the  trenches.  They  were 
quietly  talking  to  each  other,  and  one  could 
see  the  glimmer  of  cigarettes.  Bayonets  pro- 
truded here  and  there  from  the  deep  trenches 
and  glistened  in  the  moonlight.  Cheda  was 
sitting  near,  his  head  sunk  between  his 
shoulders,  his  shikatcha  drawn  over  his  ears. 

"The  machine-guns  have  come?"  I  asked 
him. 

"Yes,  sir." 

169 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


"Have  you  put  them  as  I  said  —  two  at 
the  right  side  of  the  trenches,  and  one  at  the 
left?" 

"Yes,  sir.  What  do  you  think  of  to-mor- 
row?" 

"If  they  have  enough  artillery,  it  will  be 
bad.  But  if  they  do  not,  then  we  will  kill  them 
as  the  hail  kills  field-mice!" 

"I  think  so  too,  sir." 

"Where  is  Bora?  "  I  asked  him  after  a  while. 

"There  he  is  in  the  trench,  sitting  on  the 
coflBn." 

"What?" 

"Sitting  on  the  coffin,  dreaming  as  usual. 
The  soldier  was  right  in  saying  the  coffin  is  a 
real  chair." 

The  wind  began  to  blow  more  strongly.  It 
was  very  cold. 

"Let's  go  down,  Cheda;  it  will  be  warmer 
there.  To-morrow  you  will  be  at  the  left  wing 
of  the  trench.  Bora  and  I  will  stay  at  the  right, 
but  to-night  we  can  be  together." 

Then  we  went  down  into  the  trench,  into 
the  cold,  wet,  nauseating  graves.  Some  of  the 
soldiers  were  sitting  in  the  trench;  others  were 
170 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

lying  on  the  wet  ground,  sleeping;  others  were 
standing  with  their  heads  leaning  against  the 
wall  of  the  trench,  their  guns  between  their 
feet  and  held  against  their  breasts.  Standing 
thus,  they  were  sleeping  with  open  mouths. 
Their  only  rest  for  the  whole  night !  How  ter- 
ribly pale  their  faces,  and  how  ghastly  in  the 
moonlight!   How  like  the  faces  of  the  dead! 

We  found  Bora  sitting  on  the  coffin,  but  he 
got  up  when  we  came. 

"What!  are  you  sitting  on  a  corpse?"  said 
Cheda  grimly. 

*'I  tell  you  it  does  not  feel,  and  the  heart 
in  my  breast  does  not  feel,"  answered  Bora 
very  seriously. 

I  sat  down  on  the  coffin,  trying  to  be  calm, 
but  I  felt  a  cold  shudder  run  from  my  feet  up 
my  back  and  stiffen  my  neck.  I  tried  to 
throw  off  my  thoughts.  I  tried  to  calm  my- 
self. But  my  thoughts  ran  on.  I  was  never 
wider  awake.  I  thought:  "I  am  sitting  in  a 
grave  upon  a  corpse!  I  do  not  remember  that 
I  ever  read  or  heard  of  anything  like  this.  Can 
it  be  true?  Can  it  be  reality?  Perhaps  I  am 
sick  and  this  whole  day  is  only  the  hallucina- 
171 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


tion  of  a  fever."  But  a  gust  swept  in  on  us  from 
the  valley  the  distant  sound  of  screams  of 
pain,  cries,  and  curses,  which  told  me  that  it 
was  all  true. 

Suddenly  Bora  clutched  my  hand.  I  turned 
round  to  him.  The  moonlight  shone  in  his 
face,  which  was  pale  and  haggard.  His  lips 
were  quivering,  his  hand  was  outstretched, 
pointing  to  something  beyond  the  trench.  I 
saw  that  he  wished  to  tell  me  something,  but 
he  could  not;  the  words  stuck  in  his  throat. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  what  is  the  matter 
with  you,  Bora?  Why  are  you  so  frightened?  " 

"What  ails  him  again?"  said  Cheda,  who 
was  sitting  beside  me  with  his  head  between 
his  knees. 

"Do  you  believe  in  ghosts?"  said  Bora, 
whispering  and  shivering. 

"What?" 

"In  ghosts,  in  spirits?"  * 

"Certainly  a  soldier  is  passing  through  the 
cemetery,"  said  Cheda. 

"No !  no,  I  am  not  crazy.  Please  get  up  and 
look,"  said  Bora,  pulling  me  to  my  feet. 

At  the  same  time  the  soldiers  began  to 
172 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

wake,  to  whisper,  to  get  up.  I  looked  out  of 
the  trench.  A  black  shadow!  It  was  moving 
round  the  old  cemetery;  from  time  to  time  it 
appeared  in  the  moonlight  which  filtered 
through  the  lindens.  It  seemed  to  me  to  be 
very  large.  The  soldiers  became  more  rest- 
less. 

"Be  silent!"  I  cried  to  them. 

Now  the  shadow  emerged  from  the  old 
cemetery.  It  was  entirely  in  the  moonlight. 
I  saw  it  was  a  woman.  She  moved  very 
quickly.  She  bent  often,  as  though  looking 
for  something.  Once  in  a  while  she  would 
straighten  herself,  and  we  could  hear  her 
moan.  As  she  came  quite  close  to  us  we  could 
hear  her  speaking  to  herself:  "There  is  the 
grave  of  Mara,  —  there  of  friend  Paya,  — 
here  of  Caya,  and  here  must  be  his!'*  All  of 
a  sudden  she  screamed  (oh,  a  terrible  scream!) 
and  fell  upon  what  was  left  of  the  new  grave 
of  the  soldier. 

"It  is  dug  up,  —  it  is  broken  down,  de- 
stroyed!" exclaimed  the  poor  creature,  writh- 
ing with  grief,  stretching  her  arms  over  the 
mound.  "Why  have  you  dug  up  his  grave? 
173 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


He  gave  his  young  life  for  his  country,  but  it 
is  not  yet  enough;  now  he  cannot  have  his 
rest.  Why  did  you  not  find  my  heart  to  dig 
up  rather  than  his  grave?  Why  did  you  not 
first  kill  me?  Yaoy,  Yaoy!  All  destroyed! 
Have  you  removed  his  coffin,  have  you  taken 
him  out,  have  you  opened  those  terrible 
wounds  on  his  dead  body?  Have  you  — ?'* 

And  not  knowing  what  she  was  doing,  she 
stumbled  into  the  trench.  We  caught  her  and 
put  her  down  near  the  coffin. 

"Here  is  the  coffin,"  said  Cheda,  almost 
inaudibly. 

She  kneeled  on  the  ground  and  quickly  felt 
over  the  coffin  with  her  hands,  whispering 
many  times,  "Here  it  is,  here  it  is!"  Then  she 
shrieked  again,  fell  on  the  coffin  and  began  to 
embrace  and  kiss  it,  trembling  in  her  whole 
body.  Never  in  my  life  had  I  heard  such 
cries.  Soon  they  grew  less  and  less  and  died 
away  in  a  shuddering  moan.  Suddenly  she 
weakened,  her  arms  slipped  to  the  ground,  and 
she  fell,  her  head  striking  on  the  coffin. 

Bora  drew  in  his  breath  with  a  sharp  hiss- 
ing sound.   "Dead!"  he  whispered. 
174 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

Cheda  ran  to  the  woman  first  and  raised 
her.  Her  shawl  fell  from  her  head  and  we 
could  see  her  gray  silvery  hair.  On  her  fore- 
head was  a  great  red  bruise.  Her  eyes  were 
closed. 

"She  breathes,"  said  Cheda;  "give  her 
water." 

I  took  a  canteen  and  bathed  her  forehead 
and  temples. 

The  soldiers  crowded  round  us.  I  could  hear 
them  whispering.  "  That 's  a  mother ! "  "  Poor 
woman!"  "Poor  mothers  —  all  of  ours!" 

Finally  the  woman  moved,  and  opened  her 
eyes.  Oh,  dear  mother's  eyes,  how  red  and 
swollen  they  were !  For  a  long  time  she  looked 
round  her;  and  then,  as  consciousness  re- 
turned, she  again  put  her  arms  around  the 
coffin,  placed  her  head  upon  it,  and  whis- 
pered in  the  faintest  of  voices,  "My  son,  my 
dear  son,  my  tender  child!  Did  they  hurt 
you?" 

"Is  that  your  son?"  asked  Bora. 

"Yes,  my  son,  my  only  one.  He  was  my 
hope,  my  happiness,  my  life.  When  I  lost 
him  I  could  not  live  myself.  1  did  not  love  the 
175 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


sun,  I  had  his  eyes;  I  did  not  admire  the  flow- 
ers or  smell  them,  I  had  his  rosy  cheeks  and 
his  hair;  I  did  not  love  the  sky,  I  had  his  fore- 
head; I  did  not  love  the  honey  or  sweetness  of 
life,  I  listened  to  his  voice;  I  did  not  care  for 
the  whole  world,  I  had  his  gentle  hands  and 
his  heart  of  gold !  Oh,  I  had  him,  my  only  one, 
and  that  is  all.  He  was  my  life.  I  loved  him 
so  much  that  now  I  cannot  love  sun,  flowers, 
sky,  world,  life.  All  these  were  in  him.  I  can- 
not, I  cannot ! "  cried  the  poor  mother  in 
superhuman  grief;  and  began  to  weep  again. 

It  was  more  than  terrible!  It  was  incon- 
ceivable! The  soldiers  all  left  their  places  and 
gathered  round  us,  round  this  poor  mother. 
Cheda  rose  and  motioned  to  them  to  go  away. 
They  went  slowly  back  to  their  places.  For 
a  time  I  heard  them  talk  and  whisper,  but 
soon  they  grew  silent;  only  the  mother  still 
wept.  Presently  she  rose,  took  my  hand,  and 
in  a  frightened  voice,  said :  — 

"Will  you  destroy  his  grave  entirely?  Will 

you  really  take  him  out  that  the  dogs  may 

eat  him.'^  Oh,  no,  no!  I  will  not  permit  it.  / 

am  here.   I  am  here  to  defend  you,  my  dear 

176 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

little  heart!"  cried  the  poor  woman,  clasping 
the  coflBn  as  if  she  wanted  to  take  it  to  her 
breast  and  carry  it  somewhere  far  away. 

Bora  knelt  beside  her,  lifted  her,  embraced 
her  gently,  and  said  to  her  tenderly,  nearly 
in  tears:  — 

"No!  good  mother,  we  will  not  take  out  his 
coffin.  On  the  contrary,  we  are  here  to  defend 
it.  We  love  your  son  too.  He  was  a  soldier,  a 
warrior,  a  defender;  he  was  our  friend." 

The  mother  looked  at  Bora  a  few  moments, 
astonished,  with  wide-open  eyes,  as  if  she  did 
not  understand  him.  Then  she  took  his  head 
in  her  hands  and  began  to  kiss  him  passion- 
ately,—  on  his  hair,  on  his  forehead,  his 
cheeks,  eyes,  chin,  —  saying :  — 

"Oh,  I  know  it.  Yes,  you  are  his  friend,  his 
comrade.  You  are  a  soldier  as  he  was.  And 
you  too  have  a  mother,  who  is  now  weeping 
as  I  am.  You  are  all  my  children.  Yes,  yes, 
you  are  the  same  as  he  was,  only  he  is  dead, 
and  you,  perhaps,  will  be  to-morrow.  Oh  my 
poor  children!  Have  we  borne  you  for  this? 
Have  we  suffered,  we  mothers,  so  much,  to 
lose  you  when  we  love  you  the  most?  Do  not 
177 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


interrupt  me.  I  know  what  you  want  to  say. 
*Our  native  country  is  calling.  We  have  to 
defend  it,  and  defending  it,  we  defend  you, 
our  mothers;  thus  we  pay  our  debts.'  Oh,  1 
know  it.  I  too  thought  it  was  so.  The  day 
when  I  parted  with  him,  I  did  not  weep.  He 
said  to  me,  *Do  not  weep,  mother;  be  proud 
that  you  have  a  soldier  son.  You  have  kept 
me  and  cared  for  me  more  than  twenty  years. 
Now  the  time  has  come  when  I  can  defend 
you,  and  I  will  defend  you,  my  good  mother. 
Be  happy!' 

"And  he  went  with  a  song  on  his  lips, 
happy  in  his  strength  and  youth.  I  was 
proud. 

"Right  away  after,  I  went  to  a  hospital. 
I  wanted  to  be  truly  worthy  of  my  son.  I  took 
care  of  the  wounded  and  kissed  them,  for  in 
caressing  them  I  thought  that  I  caressed  my 
boy.  He  wrote  to  me  often.  He  was  happy 
and  content.  He  always  begged  me  not  to 
worry  too  much,  for  he  felt  that  my  love  de- 
fended him. 

"One  day  —  O  God,  God!  One  day,  when 
I  came  to  the  hospital,  I  found  another 
178 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

wounded  soldier.  His  head  was  bandaged  and 
he  was  lying  perfectly  still.  I  went  closer  to 
the  bed.  Suddenly  I  screamed  and  fell  on  the 
floor;  I  recognized  my  son.  Oh,  I  cannot  tell 
you  all!  His  face  was  black,  his  eyes  closed, 
and  around  them  it  was  all  blue  and  red.  I 
kissed  him,  I  spoke  to  him,  I  called  him,  I 
shook  him.  Slowly  he  raised  his  swollen  eye- 
lids, and  showed  his  beautiful  eyes  from  which 
he  would  never  see  any  more,  and  a  low  pain- 
ful groan  came  from  his  lips.  Oh,  my  poor 
child !  He  had  lost  his  sight  and  speech.  Oh, 
I  cannot  tell  you  all. 

"One  morning  I  went  into  the  bandage- 
room  when  they  dressed  his  wounds.  He  had 
no  hair;  his  beautiful  hair  was  shaved  entirely 
off.  Around  his  head  was  a  wide-open  gash 
from  which  the  blood  was  running.  O  God, 
God!  When  the  doctor  pressed  his  head,  his 
fingers  sunk  into  the  skin  as  if  there  was  no 
bone  beneath!  Yaoy!  He  died  after  a  few 
days.  He  was  never  conscious.  Oh,  how  ter- 
rible it  was!  I  was  insane  with  grief.  He  died 
in  my  arms  without  knowing  that  these  were 
the  hands  of  his  mother  which  he  loved  so 
179 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


much  and  kissed  so  often.  O  my  children,  can 
you  not  see  how  unhappy  I  am?  I  am  not 
angry  at  my  native  country.  I,  too,  love  my 
country.  But  when  my  son  has  died  for  it,  I 
too  must  die.  It  is  not  life  for  a  mother  without 
her  children.  We  mothers  are  useless  for  this 
world  without  our  children.  Oh,  if  I  were  the 
only  mother  who  is  weeping  now,  it  would  be 
nothing;  but  there  are  a  million  mothers  who 
are  weeping  to-day.  We  will  flood  the  whole 
world  with  our  tears,  with  our  mourning 
garments  we  will  darken  the  sun,  and  with 
our  sorrows  we  will  poison  life.  O  God !  I  teg 
you  to  kill  me!  I  will  not  live  without  him, 
without  my  son,  my  heart,  my  soul!'* 

The  poor  woman  ceased  speaking,  and  be- 
gan to  weep  sadly.  We  were  silent.  The  hush 
of  death  fell. 

4s      4c       sK 

Who  can  tell  how  long  we  sat  there,  dumb 
and  stiff?  It  was  terribly  cold,  but  we  did  not 
feel  it.  The  icy  wind  had  blown  dirt  and  dead 
leaves  into  our  trenches,  but  we  did  not  pay 
any  attention  to  this;  the  dreadful  sounds  from 
180 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

the  valley  we  did  not  hear;  we  were  sitting  in 
graves,  but  did  not  realize  it;  we  were  so  near 
to  death,  yet  no  one  was  frightened !  No  one 
wished  to  think  of  the  black  present,  or  of  the 
appalling  future.  It  was  impossible  to  think, 
for  one  would  become  insane.  Every  one, 
perhaps  for  the  last  time,  was  sunk  in  thoughts 
of  the  past.  Every  one  had,  perhaps  for  the 
last  time,  drawn  from  his  sick  heart  dear  and 
tender  memories.  Every  one  remembered 
beautiful  past  days,  when  everybody  was  so 
happy,  when  the  sun  always  shone,  and  the 
world  was  full  of  love. 

Suddenly,  in  the  distance  before  us,  beyond 
the  valley,  a  terrible  light  flamed  out,  as  if 
the  world  was  burning.  Immediately  a  tre- 
mendous detonation  shook  the  ground.  This 
brought  us  back  to  reality.  The  mother, 
startled,  asked :  — 

"What's  that?" 

**Our  troops  have  at  last  crossed  the  Mor- 
ava  and  blown  up  the  bridge,"  said  Bora. 
Then  he  added  seriously,  looking  at  me, 
"Now,  the  anvil  is  to  feel  the  hammer- 
strokes." 

181 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


The  seriousness  of  the  present  moment 
came  over  me.  I  bent  over  the  mother  and 
said  to  her  tenderly :  — 

"Now,  mother,  you  have  to  go.'* 

She  looked  at  me  a  moment  and  then  she 
said  with  a  bitter  smile:  — 

"What!  go  from  here?  Where .^  For  noth- 
ing on  earth  will  I  go.  I  cannot  leave  him 
alone." 

"But,  good  mother,  you  have  to  go  from 
here.  The  battle  will  soon  be  on;  soon  there 
will  be  death  here,"  said  Bora. 

"That  is  what  I  want,"  said  the  poor 
mother  in  a  whisper. 

I  was  frightened  and  anxious.  "  If  she  really 
will  not  go  from  here!"  I  thought.  "A 
woman  in  the  trench !  If  she  were  to  die!  Oh, 
no,  no,  it  is  impossible,  unheard-of !  It  cannot 
be."  I  took  her  hands  and  said  firmly, 
"Mother,  I  beg  you  to  go.  Go  to  your  home." 

"Home?  We  mothers  have  no  homes  when 
our  children  are  no  longer  there.  Then,  for 
us,  a  grave  is  our  home.   I  am  in  it." 

"I  beg  you,  mother,  my  dear  mother,  be 
reasonable.  It  is  impossible.  Come  now,  caji't 
182 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

you  see — **  begged  poor  Bora,  kissing  her 
hands. 

**How,  impossible?  It  is  very  natural.  I 
am  not  insane.  I  know  very  well  what  I  am 
doing,  and  I  do  not  ask  that  which  is  impos- 
sible. O  my  dear  children!  Can't  you  see  that 
my  son  is  again  weak,  frail,  feeble,  and  little 
as  when  he  was  born?  Can't  you  see  that 
again  he  needs  my  help  and  my  defense?  '* 

*'Butwe  are  here  to  defend  him!" 

"What  do  you  know  about  little  children? 
Nothing.  Only  a  mother  can  help  here.  O 
my  dear  children,  let  me  stay  here." 

Suddenly  she  grasped  my  hands,  fell  on  her 
knees  and  implored  me :  — 

"O  my  son,  my  dear  son,  please  understand 
me.  I  am  a  miserable  woman.  I  have  lost  my 
only  little  one,  but  you  can  bring  me  happi- 
ness —  yes,  happiness  —  if  you  will  let  me  die 
beside  him.'* 

I  stood  confused.  For  the  first  time  in  my 
life  I  felt  what  it  means  when  the  mind  ceases 
to  act.  Truly  I  knew  nothing  of  myself;  I  felt 
only  that  the  wild,  quick,  emotional  throbs 
of  my  heart  said,  "  Let  her  stay,  let  her  stay.'* 
183 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


Cheda,  who  stood  waiting,  now  came  up. 

"Mother,  you  must  go  from  here!" 

**What?  I  must?  I  must?  Never!  What  is 
the  power  that  can  send  me  from  here?  Who 
is  the  wretch  who  will  take  a  mother  from  her 
only  little  one?  Who  is  this  cruel  one?  Who 
is  this  monster?  We  mothers  are  the  kindest 
beings,  but  if  somebody  dares  to  hurt  our 
little  birds,  then  we  strike,  we  bite,  we 
scratch!  Do  you  hear?  We  bite,  we  scratch!" 
cried  the  poor  mother,  with  changed  voice 
and  frightened  eyes,  with  outstretched  hands, 
showing  her  nails. 

Cheda  lost  his  temper. 

"The  woman  is  crazy,"  he  said.  "Two 
soldiers  here!" 

"What  are  you  doing?"  I  asked  him. 

"I  will  order  them  to  take  this  woman 
away." 

"Sergeant,  go  to  your  place!"  I  said  to  him 
sharply. 

For  the  first  time  I  was  Cheda's  command- 
ing officer.  He  looked  at  me,  astonished,  then 
straightened  up,  gave  me  the  regular  salute, 
and  said  in  a  firm  voice :  — 
184 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

"I  understand,  sir,"  and  went  to  the  left 
wing  of  the  trench. 

The  mother  remained.  I  never  can  describe 
her  happiness.  To-day,  I  thought,  a  human 
Hfe  is  as  cheap  as  a  rusty  paricay  and  the 
smallest  pleasure  is  so  expensive.  Now  an 
opportunity  was  given  to  me  to  give  the 
greatest  pleasure,  and  I  gave  it.  I  gave  it  to 
a  Serbian  mother. 

«     »     « 

The  night  dragged  its  endless  length  along. 
The  first  streaks  of  dawn  were  appearing, 
when  suddenly,  over  the  river,  somewhere  in 
the  blue  mountains,  there  rang  out  a  shot, 
then  another,  a  third,  a  fourth.  Then  came 
faint  whistles,  and  again  four  shots  some- 
where on  the  right.  The  soldiers  jumped, 
leaned  on  the  wall  of  the  trench,  and  grasped 
their  guns.   It  was  beginning. 

The  worst  moments  come  at  the  beginning 
of  the  battle.  The  soldiers  are  like  drunken 
men  in  darkness.  Nothing  is  known,  and  no 
one  will  show  his  position  first.  But  to-day 
the  fighting  developed  very  quickly.  The 
185 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


Bulgarians,  proud  of  their  victories,  wished 
to  be  "entirely  quit  with  their  brothers"  at 
once,  and  they  began  to  shoot  from  all  points 
with  their  artillery,  following  the  German 
tactics:  "wipe  out  first  all  before  you  and 
then  march  through  the  cleared  place." 

At  first  I  laughed  at  their  wild  shooting, 
for  the  shower  of  shells  exploded  far  from  us. 
But  it  grew  serious.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  a 
muddy,  turgid  river,  a  raging  flood,  was  rising 
up  to  swamp  us.  At  first  the  Bulgarians  had 
directed  their  fire  only  at  the  valley,  wasting 
their  ammunition.  Or  perhaps  they  wanted 
to  clear  their  way  through  the  valley  by 
throwing  aside  the  dead  in  it.  Then  they 
moved  their  fire  to  the  pass,  and  then  to  the 
town.  Nothing  could  be  more  appalling  than 
to  hear  the  hissing  of  the  shells,  which,  as 
they  flew  through  the  pass  like  wild  horses, 
lost  their  clear  whistling  sound,  and  became 
dull  heavy  thunder  that  shook  the  ground. 
Shortly  after,  behind  us,  over  the  hill  back 
of  the  old  cemetery,  rose  a  thick  black  smoke. 

"They  have  set  the  town  on  fire,  the  black 
devils!"  said  Bora. 

186 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

"  We  are  their  sure  victims,  but  the  people 
in  the  town  might  fly,  and  so  they  want  to 
finish  them  first,"  I  said,  trembling  with  anger 
and  rage. 

"You  see  now  that  it  is  better  that  I  re- 
main here,"  said  the  mother  with  a  sad  smile. 

Suddenly,  before  we  expected,  they  turned 
their  fire  on  the  hills  at  both  sides  of  the  pass. 
It  seemed  to  me  as  if  the  mouths  of  many 
wild  beasts  had  opened  and  snarled  at  the 
same  time.  And  the  sound  came  toward  us 
like  a  shrill  screech,  as  when  the  ocean  wind 
blows  through  the  rigging  of  a  lonely  ship. 
At  the  same  moment,  the  shells  exploded  with 
dreadful  rapidity  everywhere  around  us.  We 
were  deafened  by  the  detonations.  Immedi- 
ately after,  the  wind  blew  a  thick  stinging 
smoke  into  the  trench,  which  bit  our  eyes  and 
suffocated  us.  And  from  all  directions  fell 
earth  and  dry  leaves. 

At  the  same  time  a  black  line  rose  from 
the  bed  of  the  river.  The  Bulgarians 
had  crossed  the  Morava.  Perhaps  they  had 
crossed  last  night  and  were  hidden  somewhere 
along  the  shore  of  the  river.  The  line  seemed 
187 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


endless,  and  thin  as  a  thread.  It  moved 
quickly  through  the  valley.  I  grasped  the 
telephone :  — 

"Hello!   Fourth  Battery!" 

It  seemed  as  if  a  hundred  men  had  spoken 
at  the  same  time  at  the  telephone. 

I  cried  as  loudly  as  I  could :  — 

"Hello!  Fourth  Battery!" 

"Here!"  answered  a  voice. 

I  continued  in  the  same  loud  tone:  — 

"Direction  river  —  forty -five  hundred  me- 
tres. Try  with  two  cannon  with  a  correction 
of  two  hundred  metres." 

"Don't  worry,"  answered  the  same  voice. 

After  a  few  moments  something  thun- 
dered terribly  behind  us  and  whistled  over 
our  heads  —  something  which  flew  through 
space,  rending  the  air.  At  the  same  time  some- 
thing, like  a  sack  full  of  sand,  struck  us  in 
our  backs  so  powerfully  that  we  staggered. 
Our  artillery  had  begun  to  fire.  I  took  my 
field-glasses  and  looked  into  the  valley.  Two 
little  white  puffs  of  smoke  showed  there  — 
one  of  them  just  over  the  black  line. 

Again  I  took  the  telephone:  — 
188 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

"Fourth!" 
"Yes." 

"Correction  excellent!  Now  to  the  right 
and  the  left  from  this  point!" 

It  looked  as  though  the  gate  of  hell  had 
opened  wide  behind  us.  The  white  smoke 
wreaths  appeared  with  great  rapidity  over 
the  black  line.  The  ranks  swerved,  wavered, 
and  broke  into  many  small  parts.  Some 
of  these  parts  were  lost  in  the  smoke;  some 
were  leveled  to  the  ground ;  all  the  others  ran 
forward.  From  the  right  side  of  the  pass 
our  artillery  opened  up  fire,  working  con- 
fusion in  the  Bulgar  ranks;  but  the  dark  line 
quickly  came  into  the  dead  angle  for  our 
artillery. 

Another  line  rose  from  the  river.  It  ap- 
peared to  me  that  the  Bulgarians  had  directed 
all  their  cannon  toward  our  Peaceful  Hill, 
trying  to  find  our  battery.  The  shells  struck 
the  old  cemetery,  working  tremendous  havoc. 
The  lindens  were  torn  out  by  the  roots  and 
hurled  into  the  air,  the  large  stones  of  the 
monuments  were  cracked  in  pieces,  and  re- 
duced to  dust.  The  air  was  filled  with  min- 
189 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


gled  leaves  and  earth,  and  everything  shook 
and  trembled  in  that  awful  destruction. 

The  second  wave  of  the  Bulgar  attack  met 
the  same  fate  as  the  first,  but  though  disor- 
dered, broken,  and  massed  in  small  parts,  it 
made  its  way  across  the  valley.  Suddenly  the 
men  of  their  first  line  rose  from  among  the 
bushes,  stones,  and  grass  at  the  foot  of  our 
hill.   When  did  they  creep  up? 

Our  outposts  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill  re- 
treated little  by  little  up  the  slope. 

"Quick  firing!  eight  hundred  metres!"  I 
shouted. 

Bora  ran  along  the  trench  crying  the  same. 
An  unspeakable  booming  and  crashing  began. 

Just  then  the  third  black  line  rose  from  the 
river.  "Orderly!"  I  cried,  as  loudly  as  I 
could,  turning  toward  the  old  cemetery.  A 
soldier,  who  had  been  hidden  behind  a  grave 
not  far  away,  crept  toward  me  like  a  serpent. 
He  was  black  with  earth  and  leaves,  and 
streams  of  dirty  sweat  ran  down  his  face. 

"Go  tell  the  men  at  the  machine-guns  that 
I  cannot  come  to  give  the  order  to  fire." 

The  soldier  crept  away. 
190 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

Presently  the  machine-guns  began  firing. 
The  sound  was  like  that  of  a  hundred  klep- 
alas  being  struck  at  the  same  moment.  The 
bullets  began  to  fly  toward  us.  They  came 
in  millions,  literally  covering  every  foot  of 
earth.  The  earth  in  front  of  the  trench  looked 
like  a  corn-popper.  They  flew  all  around  our 
heads,  close  to  our  ears,  like  hissing,  stinging 
serpents,  striking  with  deadly  venom. 

Our  fire  and  that  of  the  machine-guns 
quickly  forced  the  first  line  back,  and  held 
the  second  one  stationary.  A  swarm  of  shells 
flew  over  our  trench.  It  was  like  a  whirlwind 
of  fire;  it  was  as  if  the  air  had  become  a  fluid 
in  which  stones,  earth,  trees,  leaves,  clothes, 
guns,  parts  of  bodies,  human  flesh  and  blood 
boiled  and  mingled,  splashing  from  all  sides 
those  who  were  yet  alive.  We  were  as  in  a 
great  kettle  of  surging  horror.  Our  ears  felt 
as  if  hot  oil  had  been  poured  into  them;  our 
mouths  were  dry,  open,  and  full  of  dirt.  Our 
minds  were  stunned.  Everywhere  sounded  a 
tumult  of  breaking  bones,  crashing,  crack- 
ling, splitting  —  indescribable  disorder  and 
dreadful  horror.  Then,  above  the  roar  of 
191 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


bombs,  rang  out  heart-rending  screams,  shrieks 
of  agony,  calls  for  help,  and  the  groans  of 
the  dying. 

I  ran  through  the  trench  encouraging  the 
soldiers.  Oh,  the  unspeakable  scenes  that  I 
faced! 

One  of  my  men  lay  in  the  bottom  of  the 
trench.  His  head  was  a  crushed  and  bloody 
mass  mingled  with  the  earth.  The  big  black 
fellow  who  dug  up  the  soldier's  grave  had 
stepped  upon  this  dead  body  without  know- 
ing it  in  his  excited  shooting;  with  every 
movement  of  his  great  boots  the  dark  red 
blood  flowed  afresh  from  the  crushed  body. 

A  little  farther,  a  soldier  raised  his  left 
hand  from  his  gun.  It  was  fearfully  burned 
by  the  red-hot  barrel.  He  looked  at  his  black 
and  swollen  hand,  smiled  indifferently,  grasped 
his  gun  again,  and  began  to  fire. 

Still  farther,  a  soldier  was  leaning  against 
the  wall  of  the  trench,  apparently  sitting 
quietly  there.  When  I  looked  closely,  my  hair 
rose,  my  breath  stopped.  His  eyes  were 
glazed,  his  mouth  open  and  filled  with  earth; 
his  breast  did  not  move.  Both  legs  had  been 
192 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

entirely  shot  away  and  his  body  remained 
leaning  against  the  wall  like  a  doll. 

Another  man  was  lying  on  his  arm  against 
the  trench.   He  looked  as  if  he  were  asleep. 

"Shoot!"  I  said  and  shook  him. 

He  fell.   He  was  dead. 

The  wounded  were  the  most  heartrending. 
There  were  so  many,  and  they  were  every- 
where! Some  were  sitting  in  the  trench, 
whimpering  and  trying  to  bind  their  wounds, 
from  which  the  blood  ran  and  fell  upon  their 
uniforms.  Those  who  were  standing  stepped 
on  their  bodies,  but  they  were  past  feeling. 


Still  the  battle  raged  on  and  came  to  its 
culmination.  The  pure  air  of  God  had  become 
close  and  dark  as  in  a  cave,  through  which 
ran  a  fiery  river  of  melted  iron  in  which  ter- 
rible explosions  boomed  and  thundered. 

Those  who  lived  were  still  firing.  In  the 
smoke  and  confusion  they  looked  like  large, 
black,  bloody  phantoms.  Their  faces  were 
distorted,  and  streams  of  sweat  ran  down 
their  cheeks.  Their  eyes  were  wide,  glittering, 
193 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


and  terrible.  They  were  like  stones.  Did  they 
breathe.?  I  did  not  know,  but  they  stood  and 
fired. 

Stepping  over  the  dead  and  wounded,  cry- 
ing I  know  not  what,  I  returned  to  the  old 
place  and  looked  for  the  mother.  Why  had  I 
left  her?  The  thought  flashed  through  my 
head  and  I  felt  something  clutch  my  throat. 
She  had  covered  the  coffin  with  her  shawl  and 
was  leaning  over  it,  her  face  hidden  in  her 
arms. 

Bora  was  at  the  right  wing  of  the  trench. 
When  he  saw  me  coming  through  the  smoke 
and  dust  he  ran  toward  me.  He  was,  as  al- 
ways in  battle,  smiling,  singing,  but  very 
pale.  He  waved  his  hands  to  me,  shouting 
something  I  could  not  hear. 

Then,  suddenly,  between  him  and  me 
something  turned  white,  flashed  like  light- 
ning, and  exploded  frightfully,  as  if  the  world 
had  split  in  two.  Something  struck  me  heav- 
ily on  my  breast,  threw  me  down,  and  flew 
above  me.  A  dazzling  light  shone  before  my 
eyes  for  an  instant,  and  then  darkness  — 

"It  is  nothing,  sir!  A  little  bruise!  Why, 
194 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

it's  only  a  joke!"  said  the  big  soldier,  lifting 
me.   "But  Bora  — "  he  added. 

This  brought  me  to  my  senses,  as  a  dash 
of  icy  water. 

"Bora!"  I  cried. 

I  leaped  to  my  feet  and  ran  down  the 
trench.  Through  the  smoke,  dust,  and  ruin 
I  saw  him. 

There  are  moments  in  our  lives  so  horrible, 
so  incomprehensible,  so  unspeakably  terrible, 
that  we  have  no  feelings  with  which  to  under- 
stand or  define  them.  And  yet  they  are  for- 
ever before  our  eyes. 

Bora  was  lying  in  the  arms  of  the  poor 
mother.  A  soldier  held  his  head,  which  was 
nearly  severed  from  his  body.  A  dreadful 
wound  gaped  upon  his  neck;  his  whole  body 
seemed  so  crushed,  so  shattered,  that  only 
his  clothing  held  it  together.  The  mother  was 
dumb,  stiff  and  rigid  as  a  stone.  She  scarcely 
breathed.  She  fixed  a  constant  staring  look 
upon  the  wound,  as  if  she  could  stanch 
the  blood  with  it.  Her  face  was  frightfully 
changed,  all  twisted  and  contorted  with  hor- 
ror. Poor,  poor  mother !  What  did  you  think 
195 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


at  this  moment?  What  had  your  suffering 
mother's  heart  felt?  Oh,  if  you  could  tell  this 
to  the  world,  perhaps  the  world  would  change, 
would  be  different;  perhaps  it  would  be 
beautiful ! 

Bora  did  not  die  at  once.  Oh,  the  unhappy 
boy !  In  him  was  so  much  life,  virile  youth,  so 
much  strength  and  force,  that  death  itself 
stopped  before  him.  His  beautiful  eyes  were 
still  open  but  forever  dead.  His  hair  was  wet 
with  blood.  A  thin  stream  of  blood  ran  from 
his  nostrils.  His  mouth  opened  to  make  a 
path  for  his  beautiful  soul. 

I  howled  like  a  wounded  tiger;  I  Jumped, 
raging  as  if  insane  and  not  knowing  what  I 
did.  I  kicked  with  all  my  strength  at  the 
earth  before  the  trench.  There  is  no  need  for 
any  shelter  now.  Something  terrible  surged 
within  my  breast!  It  is  impossible  that  they 
were  men  who  did  this.  Why  then  should  I 
be  a  man? 

"Shoot!    Kill,  kill!"  I  cried  hysterically. 

Then  I  seized  a  gun,  but  it  seemed  so  little, 

so  small  before  my  rage,  pain,  desperation, 

and  horror  that  I  threw  it  away.  I  wished  at 

196 


THE  PLACE  OF  THE  SKULL 

that  moment  that  I  might  have  the  thunder 
of  Jupiter,  with  which,  in  one  stroke,  I  could 
destroy  all  the  murderers  of  my  friend. 

The  battle  raged  on.  Truly  there  was  no 
air!  All  was  changed,  destroyed,  heated! 
Those  who  were  alive  hardly  knew  if  they 
were  alive.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  this 
boom  and  thunder,  rose  a  terrible  shouting 
from  the  valley,  which  sounded  above  every- 
thing else  for  a  moment.  There  are  no  words 
or  power  to  describe  that  sound.  One  might 
say  that  the  devils  in  hell  were  singing!  It 
was  the  howl  of  man  when  he  becomes 
wild,  enraged  —  when  he  yearns  to  drink  hot 
blood. 

In  the  smoky  valley,  there  were  no  more 
black  lines,  but  an  immense  black  mass,  which 
ran  toward  us  like  a  flood  — 

"Oorah,  ooraaa-h!"  the  yells  rang  out 
everywhere.  So  cry  men  who  flesh  their 
bayonets. 

A  strange  sound  came  to  me.  For  a  mo- 
ment I  stood  like  a  stone,  then  turned  quickly. 
In  the  same  moment  the  mother  let  go  of 
Bora  and  fell.  I  ran  and  lifted  her.  From  two 
197 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


places  on  her  head  ran  blood,  red  blood  on 
the  white  hair! 

"Mother,  mother,  are  you  wounded?" 

A  happy  smile  passed  over  her  face.  Then, 
in  a  weak  voice,  "I  am  happy!  I  knew  that 
I  would  not  be  separated  from  my  son  for 
long !  Now  we  will  be  again  together  forever. 
Oh,  forever  to  be  with  him !  Here,  I  am  com- 
ing, my  little  one! "  And  weakly  she  embraced 
the  coffin  and  put  her  head  on  it.  From  her 
white  hair  the  blood  ran  onto  the  coffin. 

I  leaned  my  head  against  the  wall  of  the 
trench  and  was  silent.  I  do  not  know  if  I 
breathed.   I  did  not  feel. 

After  a  short  time  the  mother  lifted  herself 
with  great  pain.  Then  slowly  she  unbuttoned 
her  dress  and  put  her  hand  in  her  bosom. 
Immediately  she  drew  it  out.  The  hand  was 
covered  with  blood.  Only  then  I  saw  that  she 
was  shot  in  the  breast  too.  She  lifted  her 
hand  and  looked  at  the  blood  on  it  for  a 
moment. 

I  felt  my  teeth  chatter.  The  mother  said, 
in  a  wonderfully  clear  voice :  — 

"I  have  given  to  this  world  my  greatest 
198 


THE  PLACE  OF  l.'l  E  SKULL 


sacrifice,  my  only  one.  But  it  was  not  enough. 
Now  I  give  my  blood,  my  life.  Oh!  I  give 
them  very  freely,  but  only,  I  beg  you,  kill  each 
other  no  more!" 

She  clasped  her  bloody  hands  and  the  tears 
fell  from  her  eyes.  Suddenly  she  grew  weak. 
The  mother's  last  task  was  accomplished! 
She  was  no  longer  useful  to  this  world !  With 
her  last  effort  she  raised  herself  and  fell  upon 
the  coffin. 

Then  I  did  not  understand  her  words.  Now 
I  understand  them  very,  very  well. 

Then  I  saw  a  terrible  picture.  Bora  was 
lying  at  the  bottom  of  the  trench,  in  darkness, 
in  dust,  in  filth,  mingling  the  blood  of  his 
wounds  with  vile  earth,  cut,  crushed,  terrible, 
and  horrible.  The  mother  died  beside  her 
dead  son,  killed  by  the  enemy's  bullet.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  Serbia  had  died,  too.  It 
seemed  to  me  that  I  looked  on  the  death  of 
Serbia  and  her  children  in  the  death  of  this 
mother  and  this  son! 

With  one  leap  I  was  out  of  the  trench. 
There  is  no  more  trench,  no  more  shelter,  no 
more  world,  no  man,  no  humanity!  Nothing 
199 


SERri^A  CRUCIFIED 


but  raging  lions  waiting,  and  beasts,  who, 
growling,  are  ascending  the  hill. 

What  had  been  the  new  cemetery  became 
very  quickly  an  old  one,  for  a  third  one,  newer 
and  much  larger,  had  been  created. 


IV 

OUR  CHILD 

Four  bif  'iires  warmed  the  miserable  rem- 
nants of  my  company  in  this  freezing  night. 
Around  each  one  were  about  ten  soldiers  sit- 
ting closely  and  lying  against  each  other, 
bending  with  outstretched  hands  which  looked 
very  large  in  the  firelight.  In  the  red,  bearded 
faces  the  eyes  glittered  strangely,  full  of  tears 
from  pain,  heat,  smoke,  and  wind.  They  were 
so  close  to  the  fire  that  their  faces,  hands, 
chests,  and  knees  were  burned,  and  yet  they 
shivered;  now  and  then,  amidst  the  crackling 
of  the  fire,  one  could  hear  their  teeth  chatter: 
the  icy  wind,  with  raging  shriek,  swept  piti- 
lessly over  their  backs,  stiffening  their  necks, 
freezing  their  ears,  and  stabbing  their  sides 
like  a  knife.  It  is  terrible  when  these  two 
extremes  meet  on  one  tired  body,  when  one 
side  is  burning  and  the  other  freezing.  One 
had  but  to  feel  this  to  realize  what  hell  is. 

For  five  days,  since  the  battle  of  Lescovatz, 
£01 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


we  had  had  no  chance  to  sleep,  and,  though 
this  night  was  the  first  opportunity,  no  one 
had  closed  his  eyes.  Up  to  this  time  we  had 
felt  our  national  calamities;  and  weariness, 
misery,  and  hunger  had  crucified  us;  still,  we 
could  endure  all  these  and  live,  and  could  eat, 
and  sleep.  But  now  had  come  something 
worse,  something  much  more  unbearable, 
more  powerful  than  the  yoke  of  natural  laws 
which  bind  men.  Now,  something  much  more 
threatening  and  terrible  hung  over  these  four 
fires.  It  was  the  spirit  of  unyielding  tragedy. 
Not  only  the  spirit  of  the  cruelty  of  one  nation, 
which  had  destroyed  the  liberty  of  five  mil- 
lion people,  but  the  spirit  which  had  broken 
the  faith  of  those  people  and  crushed  their 
hearts  and  killed  their  hopes.  Serbia's  sol- 
diers had  to-day  for  the  first  time  fled;  this 
was  the  crowning  disaster.  One  must  know 
the  Serbian  soldier  in  order  to  understand  the 
full  effect  of  this  upon  him. 

The  Serbians  had  always  fought  for  the 
liberty  and  happiness  of  their  brothers.    For 
four  years  they  had  won  magnificent  victo- 
ries from  Kumanovo  to  Monastir,  from  Priz- 
202 


OUR  CHILD 


rend  to  Scutari,  from  Prilep  to  the  Adriatic 
Sea;  they  had  captured  Papaz-Tepe  at 
Adrianople;  they  had  said  to  the  "Chessar"  ^ 
from  Cer,  Yadar,  Rudnik,  Kosmaj,  and  Bel- 
grade that  his  idea  of  Straf expedition  was 
quite  wrong;  they  had  said  to  the  Bulgarians, 
"For  Slivnica,  Bregalnica";  and,  though  at- 
tacked on  all  sides,  they  had  defended  with 
superhuman  strength  their  ideals  and  their 
honor. 

Now,  to-day,  for  the  first  time,  they  had 
fled!  This,  then,  was  the  dark  spirit  which 
hovered  over  these  four  fires,  which  simply 
numbed  every  natural  law;  the  spirit  which 
caused  these  poor,  half-dead  men  not  to  feel 
that  the  coat  on  their  elbows  was  burning, 
that  from  their  unkempt  bodies  the  sweat 
was  running,  and  that  the  skin  on  their  necks 
was  cracking  open  in  the  icy  wind. 

This  night  for  the  first  time  I  quite  under- 
stood the  words  of  a  peasant  soldier,  who  said 
to  me  while  dying  in  my  arms:  "When  a  man 
is  dying,  perhaps  society  is  guilty,  but  when 

^  The  name  which  Serbian  people  apply  to  the  Emperor  of 
Austria. 

203 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


a  nation  is  dying,  certainly  humanity  is 
guilty!"  Bitterly  I  felt  the  tragic  fate  of  my 
country.  I  knew  the  struggles  and  work  of 
mankind  of  the  last  century,  their  democratic 
ideals,  and  I  thought  that  this  great  human- 
ity will  not  be  indifferent  to  these  tragedies, 
nor  permit  its  greatness  to  be  diminished  by 
the  miserable  cruelty  of  one  of  its  members. 
It  is  impossible!^ 

This  night  was  more  terrible  for  me  than  for 
my  soldiers.  Events  had  given  to  me  a  heavy 
task  and  many  responsibilities.  I  looked  at 
these  remnants  of  my  company  with  great 
pain,  sorrow,  and  fear.  Besides,  I  was  now 
alone;  excepting  Sergeant  Trailo,  not  one  of 
my  sergeants  remained.  And,  finally,  I  did 
not  have  any  longer  my  Cheda.  The  loss  of 
him  made  my  unhappiness  almost  unsupport- 
able.  Absolutely  I  could  not  reconcile  myself 
to  the  loss  of  Cheda.  For  many  reasons  I 
had  loved  this  sergeant  of  mine.  He  was  so 
good  and  gentle.    He  was  from  the  heart  of 

*  The  best  proof  that  humanity  is  not  an  empty  phrase  and 
that  "Deutschland  Uber  alles  "  could  not  exist  in  this  century 
is  this,  that  to-day  the  whole  world  is  against  Germany. 

204 


OUR  CHILD 


Serbia,  from  the  part  of  the  country  most 
celebrated  in  our  songs.  I  always  took  him  as 
an  example,  as  a  type  of  my  nation.  I  had 
entered  into  battle  for  the  first  time  with  him. 
He  had  helped  me  so  many  times,  freely, 
from  his  whole  heart,  sacrificing  his  most 
precious  things,  and  he  had  risked  his  life 
many  times  to  save  mine.  And,  from  the  time 
my  captain  was  wounded  and  I  became  the 
commander  of  my  company,  Cheda  helped 
me  very  much  in  this  difficult  duty,  with  his 
knowledge,  his  great  energy,  and  the  valuable 
experiences  of  an  old  soldier.  And  then  I  truly 
loved  him,  and  those  that  we  love  we  always 
want  close  beside  our  hearts  never  to  be  lost. 
The  worst  part  was,  that  I  did  not  know 
what  had  happened  to  him.  After  we  had 
retreated  from  Lescovatz,  we  had  fought  at 
the  position  of  Dobra-Glava  for  three  days, 
retreating  slowly  and  successfully.  This  last 
night  we  had  come  to  Stubla,  a  little  village. 
The  positions  around  Stubla  were  very  unfor- 
tunate for  us;  there  was  a  chain  of  bare  hills, 
which  went  from  Bele-Crkve  to  Boshniak, 
and  beyond  this  was  the  valley  of  Poosta- 
205 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


Reka,  the  last  valley  in  all  this  part  of  Serbia. 
The  work  of  my  division,  which,  since  Les- 
covatz,  had  conducted  itself  so  finely,  was  to 
hold  this  valley  until  all  our  refugees,  the 
army,  and  the  trains  of  equipment  should 
have  crossed  the  passes  of  Medveja  and 
Lebana,  and  arrived  in  safety.  Afterwards 
we  would,  according  to  plans,  cross  the  val- 
ley during  the  night,  enter  into  the  moun- 
tains, pass  Lebane,  and  arrive  in  the  rocky 
part  of  southern  Serbia,  where  we  could 
retreat  slowly  and  safely,  imposing  upon  the 
enemy  heavy  losses.  We  had  made  this  plan 
at  our  headquarters,  and  up  to  this  night, 
when  we  came  to  Stubla,  it  had  developed 
successfully. 

But  this  night  the  Bulgarians,  finding  that 
their  advance  from  Lescovatz  was  a  failure, 
suddenly  changed  their  tactics.  Fifteen  miles 
south  of  Lescovatz,  near  Vladichin  Han,  they 
crossed  the  Morava  with  large  forces  and 
very  speedily  advanced  through  the  valley 
of  Yablaniza  toward  Medveja.  We  heard  of 
this  about  midnight,  and  it  was  like  thunder 
from  a  clear  sky  to  us.  Right  away  came 
206 


OUR  CHILD 


the  order  that  two  regiments  of  my  division 
should  immediately  cross  the  Pusta  River  and 
hasten  to  Medveja.  This  was  done  at  two 
o'clock,  leaving  at  Stubla  only  the  Fourteenth 
and  my  regiment  to  defend  a  position  of  ten 
miles.  Two  regiments  ^  to  fight  six  of  the 
enemy's!  The  situation  was  dreadful!  With 
the  loss  of  two  regiments  the  commander  of 
my  division  had  to  make  new  arrangements, 
and  we  had  only  time  to  dig  small  and  shallow 
trenches.  The  fighting  began  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning. 

As  always,  Cheda  commanded  the  left 
wing,  and  I  the  right.  The  battle  was  such 
that  a  soldier  of  mine,  an  old  warrior,  a  real 
giant,  who  had  always  said  in  any  fighting, 
"Nothing!  Nothing!  It's  only  mild!"  now 
exclaimed,  "Auh!   It  is  hot!" 

The  Bulgarians  acted  quickly.  Informed 
of  the  success  of  the  southern  army,  they 
wished  to  push  us  into  the  valley,  and  here, 
between  Medveja,  Lebana,  and  Prokuplie,  to 
hold  us,  so  that  they  could,  later,  with  the 
help  of  the  Germans  and  Austrians,  who  were 

*  Both  regiments  had  lost  half  their  men. 
207 


\ 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


coming  from  the  north,  capture  alive  many  of 
our  divisions.  The  fighting  was  dreadful,  the 
day  unforgettable,  the  conditions  terrible,  and 
fate  without  pity.  At  ten  o'clock,  thanks  to 
our  unfortunate  position,  the  Bulgarians  suc- 
ceeded in  passing  to  our  flank  with  their 
mountain  artillery.  At  half-past  ten  the  am- 
munition of  our  artillery  was  entirely  gone, 
at  eleven,  that  of  my  soldiers;  and  right  away 
the  Bulgarians  made  an  assault. 

Now  came  the  time  when  more  than  three 
thousand  men  must  choose  one  of  three 
dreadful  possibilities;  to  be  made  prisoners, 
to  commit  suicide,  or  to  fly.  All  three  were 
equally  terrible,  and  up  to  this  time  no  Ser- 
bian soldier  had  chosen  any  one  of  these.  To 
be  slaves!  A  bitter  laugh  of  derision  rose. 
To  commit  suicide!  This  would  take  too 
much  time.  To  fly!  The  next  moment  two 
regiments  ran  into  the  valley  to  a  fearful  fate. 

In  this  chaos  I  did  not  see  Cheda.  I  had 
to  pass  with  my  two  platoons  through  the 
village.  When  the  Bulgarians  saw  the  sol-, 
diers  in  the  village,  their  blinding  rage  was 
such  that  they  threw  aside  the  most  elemen- 
£08 


OUR  CHILD 


tary  rules  of  humanity.  Paying  no  attention 
to  the  white  cloths  which  hung  over  every 
door,  they  began  to  throw  hundreds  of  shells 
at  the  poor  village,  destroying  without  pity 
the  roofs  which  sheltered  mothers  and  chil- 
dren .  .  .  These  miserable  people,  saving 
themselves  from  the  ruin,  smoke  and  flame, 
ran  in  all  directions,  wild  with  fear,  terror, 
wounds,  and  pain.  They  screamed  so  that  it 
overcame  the  thunder  of  shells,  the  crackling 
of  flames,  the  falling  of  roofs,  and  the  wild 
shrieks  of  the  Bulgarians  who  were  rushing 
on  .  .  . 

Close  to  the  village  the  river  flowed.  It 
was  deep,  wide,  icy,  and  muddy.  There  was 
no  time  to  seek  a  bridge.  We  threw  ourselves 
into  the  river.  The  freezing  waters  came  up 
to  the  chest  and  neck.  The  little  ones  fell  and 
were  carried  away  by  the  current.  The  weak 
and  overtired  were  dead  before  they  reached 
the  river  .  .  , 

Beyond  the  river  was  the  valley,  which 
seemed  to  me  without  end,  full  of  white 
smoke  puffs,  because  the  shells  of  the  Bul- 
garians were  exploding  everywhere.  The 
209 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


dreadful  cold  of  the  river  had  stiffened  our 
legs,  and  our  wet  clothes,  which  began  to 
freeze,  were  heavy  as  lead.  We  could  no  longer 
run,  but  bravely  stumbled  on.  Thus  going, 
one  man  screamed  and  fell,  and  others  struck 
their  foreheads  against  the  frozen  earth 
without  a  sound. 

"Cavalry!"  exclaimed  a  frightened  voice. 
At  the  left  side  of  the  valley  a  long  line  came 
rapidly  toward  us.  We  held  our  breath.  Then 
from  all  sides  came  the  cry,  "Cavalry!" 
There  was  wild  confusion.  Again  we  tried  to 
run.  The  frozen  clothing  crackled,  and  the 
sweat  streamed  from  our  bodies.  I  had  to 
stop  quickly;  I  could  no  longer  move;  my 
strength  was  entirely  gone.  Afterwards  I 
despised  this  play  of  destiny,  giving  us  this 
paltry  moment  in  which,  a  hundred  times, 
to  save  our  lives!  We  did  not  wish  to  be 
slaves,  we  had  cast  aside  the  thought  of  sui- 
cide, and  so  threw  ourselves,  with  our  last 
strength,  against  a  cruel  fate;  and  now  will 
happen  something  worse,  we  have  to  be 
crushed  and  broken  by  the  rack!  One  of 
my  old  soldiers  who  was  always  beside  me 
210 


OUR  CHILD 


stopped  too.  His  clothes  were  white  with  ice. 
His  face  was  distorted  by  the  tremendous 
bitterness  of  an  awful  moment.  He  stared 
into  the  dim  heavens,  he  spread  out  his  red, 
cracked,  and  bloody  hands,  shaking  his  fist 
toward  the  sky,  and  from  his  breast  came  a 
bitter,  vehement  exclamation:  — 
"God!  God!  Thou  art  not  God ! " 
Suddenly,  right  before  us,  there  was  a  ter- 
rible roar.  We  staggered.  "Surrounded!" 
flashed  through  my  mind.  Oh,  no!  With  rag- 
ing whistle  and  deafening  roar  the  shells 
flew  over  our  heads  and  fell  beyond  us,  mak- 
ing havoc.  Our  artillery  is  in  action !  I  could 
not  explain  this  to  myself!  For  a  moment  a 
hush  fell  in  the  air.  The  Bulgarians  had  sud- 
denly become  silent.  It  was  too  unexpected. 
A  moment  and  the  volcano  before  us  again 
burst  into  flame.  At  the  left  side,  where  we 
had  first  seen  the  cavalry,  we  saw  chaos;  a 
moment  after,  the  white  smoke  covered  all. 
The  shriek  behind  us  was  choked,  and  we 
again  began  to  breathe. 

The  soldier,  who  had  cried  out  against  God, 
was  struck  dumb  in  the  rapid  happenings  of 
211 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


these  few  moments.  He  stood  open-mouthed, 
swaying  like  a  tree  in  a  strong  wind.  Suddenly 
he  fell  on  his  knees,  looked  up  at  the  obscured 
sky,  stretched  out  the  same  red  hands  toward 
it,  and  said  in  low  tones :  — 

"God!  I  thank  Thee!" 

We  retreated  quietly  to  2^ata.  We  came 
here  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon;  we 
made  fires,  melting  and  drying  our  clothes. 
Oiu*  clothing  had  melted,  but  our  hearts  re- 
mained icy.  My  thoughts  w^ere  as  black  as 
this  night.  How  is  it  with  Cheda?  This  ques- 
tion returned  to  me  again  and  again  with  hard 
persistence.  I  could  give  no  answer  and  my 
heart  was  torn  by  the  pain. 


Just  at  the  moment  when  I  took  out  my 
watch  to  see  what  time  it  was,  I  heard  voices 
in  the  night.  In  a  moment  my  fire  lit  red 
figures  which  came  closer. 

*' Good-evening!"  said  Cheda,  in  a  serious 

voice,  as  usual.    For  a  moment  I  remained 

dumb.    Then  I  jumped  up  with  amazement, 

ran  to  him  and  embraced  him.  I  felt  that  he 

212 


OUR  CHILD 


was  shaking  and  I  was  sobbing.  Perhaps  only 
my  mother,  if  I  ever  see  her  again,  shall  I 
embrace  so  warmly  and  so  tenderly.  It  was 
the  embrace  of  two  loyal  friends  in  which,  at 
the  same  time,  were  mingling  the  tears  of  a 
father  and  of  a  son. 

"Are  you  not  wounded?  Are  you  not 
deathly  tired.''  How  many  soldiers  have  you 
brought?  How  many  were  killed?  How  many 
drowned?  What  is  the  news?"  I  asked  him 
hurriedly,  impatiently,  for  a  hundred  ques- 
tions burned  upon  my  lips. 

This  restored  him.  For  a  moment  he 
straightened  himself,  took  a  full  breath  of 
icy  air,  sighed  deeply,  and  again  became  that 
old  man,  serious,  silent,  quiet,  little,  and 
bent.  Afterwards  he  slowly  wiped  his  eyes 
with  one  hand.  Then  I  noticed  that  he  held 
something  under  his  coat  with  his  other  hand. 

"They  only  touched  me  slightly  on  the  left 
arm.  It's  nothing!  I  am  good,  if  such  a  word 
has  any  worth  to-day!  I  bring  about  twenty 
soldiers  .  .  .  No  one  was  drowned  ...  I 
passed  over  the  bridge ...  All  others  were 
killed  or  perished.  There  is  much  news  .  .  .** 
213 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


He  spoke  gloomily.  I  could  see  that  it  was 
not  this  which  interested  him  now.  "But 
first  of  all  .  .  ." 

"What  is  this  under  your  coat?"  I  inter- 
rupted. 

"This  is  what  I  want  to  tell  you  about  first 
of  all,"  he  said  with  suddenly  changed  voice. 
"Here,  see!"  he  whispered  and  then  threw 
open  his  coat. 

Between  his  legs  a  child  was  standing, 
leaning  its  head  against  his  body.  It  looked 
around  with  wide-open,  frightened  eyes. 

"A  child!"   I  exclaimed. 

"I  found  it  in  the  road  half  dead,"  said 
Cheda  sadly.  Never  had  I  seen  him  so  de- 
pressed. 

The  soldiers  who  were  sitting  by  the  fires 
got  up,  made  a  large  circle  around  my  fire, 
looking  with  great  interest  and  wonder  at 
this  little  one,  paying  no  attention  to  their 
shivering.  Many  were  barefooted,  because 
they  had  taken  off  their  shoes  in  order  to  dry 
them  around  the  fire.  The  soldiers  whom 
Cheda  brought  were  standing  beyond  him, 
silent,  with  red  faces  and  drooping  heads 
214 


OUR  CHILD 


over  which  the  bayonets  glittered  in  the  dark 
night. 

Cheda  took  the  child  tenderly,  made  it  sit 
down  by  the  fire,  and  stood  over  it,  motion- 
less. The  little  one,  in  great  pain,  stretched 
his  small  frozen  hands  toward  the  fire.  Long, 
disheveled  hair,  all  mingled  with  frozen  mud, 
fell  upon  his  thin  shoulders.  He  had  no  coat 
nor  cap,  and  his  clothes  were  torn.  On  the 
thin  little  neck  was  tied  a  large,  dirty  shawl. 
His  little  muddy,  stiffened  toes  protruded 
through  entirely  worn-out  shoes.  It  must  be 
that  they  gave  him  dreadful  pain,  for  he  held 
them  with  both  hands  and  began  to  rub  them. 
Then  he  bent  his  little  head  still  lower  .  .  . 
suddenly,  without  a  sound  or  sigh  or  moan, 
the  large  tears,  oh,  so  many,  began  to  fall 
from  his  eyes  upon  the  dirty  shawl  which 
hung  around  his  neck.  I  felt,  too,  that  the 
tears  came  to  my  eyes,  that  my  sight  grew 
dim,  and  my  head  swam.  In  order  not  to  fall 
I  leaned  against  a  soldier.  The  dreadful  un- 
happiness  of  this  little  one,  the  piteous  tor- 
ture of  his  little  body,  the  misery  and  bitter- 
ness of  his  tiny  being,  and  especially  the  quiet 
215 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


bearing  of  his  pain,  had  such  an  effect  upon 
me  that  I  held  my  breath,  and  my  heart's 
quick  throbbing  echoed  a  painful  question, 
**Is  this  possible,  too?'* 

The  child  still  held  his  frozen  toes,  his  head 
was  yet  bent,  and  the  tears  still  flowed.  Now 
and  then  a  long  quivering  sigh  shook  his  little 
suffering  body.  The  men  around  the  fire  were 
silent.  It  seemed  as  if  a  gigantic  mountain 
of  misery  lay  upon  this  fire,  and  with  its  un- 
measured weight  had  pressed  these  poor 
human  creatures  as  the  ants  are  crushed 
under  a  careless  foot. 

Cheda  still  stood  over  the  child.  I  could 
see  that  he  made  great  efforts  to  hold  back 
the  tears. 

"Oh,  my  good  Cheda,  I  understand  your 
pain,"  I  thought  within  myself.  "Yes,  my 
good  one,  before  this  unhappiness,  tears  are 
nothing!  My  Cheda,  my  good  soldier  father, 
I  can  imagine  what  is  now  in  your  heart,  for 
seeing  the  dreadful  condition  of  this  child, 
you  remember  your  own  children,  your  three 
angels,  and,  with  a  deathly  fear,  you  ask 
yourself:  How  is  it  with  them  now?  Your 
216 


OUR  CHILD 


heart  and  your  soul  fly  to  them,  but  your 
brain,  unable  to  give  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion, makes  horrible,  unbearable  imaginings 
from  which  one  might  become  insane,  or 
die  .  .  ." 

I  wished  to  run  there  to  embrace  him,  and 
to  take  this  child  in  my  arms,  to  kiss  him, 
to  warm  him  on  my  heart  and  breast,  to  give 
him  my  life,  but  I  could  not  move.  But,  in 
this  unhappy  child,  this  pure,  innocent  young 
soul,  now  so  torn  and  almost  killed,  and  this 
poor  father,  with  pitilessly  anguished  heart, 
I  saw  the  true  life  of  Serbia.  Is  it  life?  No, 
this  is  crucifixion.  The  fathers,  surrounded 
on  all  sides,  fought  and  died,  defending,  in 
vain,  that  which  is  most  holy,  liberty.  Their 
children,  driven  to  all  parts,  endlessly  going 
from  bad  to  worse,  hungry,  barefooted,  sick, 
waited  for  death,  which  came.  And  so  di- 
vided, they  died  without  embrace,  without 
kiss,  without  a  last  farewell ! 

But  all  at  once  in  my  heart  I  felt  a  warmth 
melting  the  thick  ice  around  it;  and  in  my 
dark  soul  a  torch  lighted  itself,  which  dis- 
pelled the  darkness  and  bitterness.  It  made 
217 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


me  straighten,  filled  my  breast  with  freshness, 
and  gave  me  new  strength.  Is  it  not  so,  my 
good  man,  who  is  reading  these  lines,  that 
you,  too,  have  felt  this  same  warmth  and  this 
same  light,  when  you  were  at  the  culmination 
of  your  unhappiness,  when  your  heart  was 
pitilessly  hurt,  when  your  breast  was  stricken 
by  the  rough  strokes  of  the  reality  of  life, 
when  on  your  shoulders  a  whole  mountain  of 
pain  and  sorrow  was  laid,  and  when  your 
soul  was  frozen  and  dark?  Is  it  not  so?  If 
this  were  not  so,  you  would  be  stifled  under 
the  weight  of  unhappiness,  or  you  would  die. 
This  warmth,  this  light,  is  hope.  It  is  the 
most  beautiful,  the  most  holy  gift  of  God, 
just  because  it  comes  in  our  darkest  daj's. 
Hope  not  only  saves  our  lives,  but  continues 
them  and  prepares  them  for  the  whole  beauty 
of  life.  At  this  moment,  brightened  by  the 
light  of  hope,  my  heart  clearly  and  distinctly 
spoke  to  me:  — 

"If  it  is  a  cross,  resurrection  must  come! 

If  the  Son  of  God,  fighting  to  save  humanity, 

was  crucified,  his  faith  was  resurrected,  in  all 

its  beauty  and  might.     If  the  Serbians  are 

218 


OUR  CHILD 


fighting  for  their  liberty,  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence that  they  are  now  crucified;  their  Hberty 
must  be  resurrected  again!  Humanity  was 
born  to  be  free,  and  one  of  its  miserable  mem- 
bers cannot  change  this  law.  Serbia  will  not 
remain  enslaved  to  Germany,  for  God  and 
humanity  will  not  permit  this!" 

Cheered  by  this  thought  and  full  of  new 
strength,  I  kneeled  and  kissed  this  little 
Christ.  The  child  turned  his  head  toward 
me,  looked  at  me  a  long  time  with  his  beauti- 
ful tender  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  then  sud- 
denly he  threw  his  little  arms  around  my 
neck  and  kissed  me  warmly.  I  do  not  know 
what  he  felt  in  his  childish  heart,  for  those 
are  the  secrets  of  nature  which  we  do  not 
understand,  but  /  know  that  then,  if  ever,  I 
got  a  kiss  from  an  angel!  Yes,  from  a  little 
angel,  for  it  seemed  to  me  that  these  tragic 
but  quiet  tears,  these  silent  sufferings  of 
superhuman  pains,  without  anger,  without 
spitefulness,  spoke  to  me:  — 

"Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do!" 

"Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
219 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


what  they  do  —  and  they  know  not  the  great 
punishment  awaiting  them!"  echoed  in  my 
heart. 


The  soldiers  whom  Cheda  brought  had 
been  a  long  time  with  the  child  and  had 
become  friends  with  him.  They  went  to  the 
fires  to  warm  their  frozen  feet  and  limbs.  My 
soldiers  were  still  sitting  around  our  fire  and 
looking  wonderingly  at  the  child. 

He  was  sitting  between  my  legs,  wrapped 
in  a  blanket,  eating  popara  ^  from  a  plate  on 
his  knees.  Finding  that  we  caressed  him,  took 
him  on  our  laps,  made  him  warm  and  gave 
him  nourishment,  he  became  at  ease  and 
wiped  away  his  tears.  Now  and  then  he  held 
his  spoon  in  the  air,  looked  around  him  at 
the  wreath  of  red,  bearded  faces  which  all 
looked  at  him  with  tender  eyes.  Then  he 
would  smile.  This  smile  of  love  and  gratitude 
brightened  painfully  his  tired  face,  but  did 
not  hover   long  upon  it.     His   eyes  sought 

^  Popara  is  made  from  bread  and  water  cooked  with  a  little 
grease. 

S20 


OUR  CHILD 


Cheda  the  most  and  looked  at  him  with  the 
greatest  tenderness.  Cheda  was  sitting  beside 
me,  silent,  with  his  head  between  his  knees. 
Now  and  then  he  straightened  up,  caressed 
the  child's  hair  and  asked  him  tenderly:  — 

"Are  you  warm  now,  my  little  one?" 

"Yes,  my  good  cheeka."  ^ 

When  he  had  finished  his  popara,  I  asked 
him:  — 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"Rada." 

"How  beautiful  your  name  is!"  I  ex- 
claimed, and  caressed  his  cheeks. 

"My  real  name  is  Radeevoy,"  said  the 
child,  "but  my  nana^  always  called  me  Rada, 
and  I  like  that  best." 

"Where  is  your  nana?"  I  asked. 

The  child  looked  at  me  with  his  beautiful, 
sad,  oh,  so  sad,  eyes,  which  quickly  filled  with 
tears;  his  pale  face  quivered  from  inner,  in- 
describable pain,  and  he  slowly  whispered :  — 

"I  don't  know." 

^  All  older  men  the  Serbian  children  address  as  cheeka,  which 
means  uncle. 

2  Serbian  children  call  their  mothers  nana,  which  corre- 
sponds to  "mamma." 

221 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


"And  your  father?" 

**He  was  killed  at  the  first  of  the  war," 
said  the  child  sadly. 

The  red  wreath  around  the  fire  was  gone, 
all  heads  had  bent  before  the  heart-rending 
sorrow  of  this  child.  There  was  silence  ex- 
cept the  crackling  of  the  fire  and  the  shriek 
of  the  wind. 

Then  little  Rada,  seeing  these  kind  men 
around  him,  seeing  this  tenderness  and  love, 
felt  a  need  to  open  his  heart,  to  share  the 
great  grief  of  his  childish  soul,  to  tell  all  his 
pain  and  sorrow,  and  thus  to  relieve  the  bit- 
terness which  filled  to  overflowing  his  little 
heart.  This  child  spoke  strangely!  A  tiny 
victim  of  the  awful  fate  of  his  nation,  he  had 
fought  for  his  existence  even  as  a  man  might 
fight.  And  so  he  was  old  far  beyond  his 
years.  Though  scarcely  eight  years  of  age,  he 
understood  perfectly  many  things,  and  many 
others  that  his  brain  could  hardly  comprehend 
he  yet  truly  described,  so  deeply  were  they 
burned  upon  his  mind.  So  from  this  innocent 
mouth  came  this  almost  incredible  story. 

"I  have  told  to  cheeka  Cheda  that  I  am 
222 


OUR  CHILD 


from  Bogosavatz.  And  you  know  that  this 
nice  village  is  near  Tser,  between  Shabatz 
and  Loznitza.  Hae!  It  was  fine  to  live  there! 
After  the  Turkish  and  Bulgarian  war  our 
zadrooga^  was  again  in  bloom.  And  my 
father  and  my  uncle  came  back  alive. 

"My  father  was  wounded  in  the  arm  and 
my  uncle  in  two  places,  but  both  got  well  and 
they  could  work  again.  Our  house  was  full  of 
people,  and  our  zadrooga  was  strong  and 
powerful,  for  it  was  never  divided.  Deda 
(grandfather)  was  the  head  of  zadrooga.  How 
good  my  deda  was !  You  know,  my  father  and 
uncle  were  his  children.  My  uncle  had  two 
little  daughters,  and  I  had  two  older  brothers 
and  one  younger  sister.  Hae!  How  we  did 
live  in  our  house!  To  tell  the  truth,  that  win- 
ter after  the  Bulgarian  war,  we  had  suffered 
because  those  two  years  before  we  had  not 
worked  much  in  our  fields,  but  my  father  had 
cut  the  wood,  and  carried  it  to  Shabatz  and 

^  Zadrooga  —  the  patriarchal  family  association,  consisting 
of  the  head  of  the  family  (domatchin),  his  wife  and  unmarried 
daughters,  his  sons,  and  sometimes  his  nephews,  and  their 
children,  all  living  in  a  group  of  small  houses  about  the  main 
family  house  in  the  village. 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


got  fine  money  for  it,  and  so  we  lived.  The 
next  spring  we  all  worked  very  hard.  Bogo- 
moi!  how  we  did  work!  We  sowed  all  our 
fields,  and  the  good  God  promised  a  fine  crop. 
We  were  so  happy  again  and  so  satisfied. 

"And  now  I  cannot  tell  you  just  exactly 
why,  but  soon  after  Veedov-Dan,*  my  deda 
became  very  sorrowful.  And  not  only  deda, 
but  my  father  and  uncle  too.  And  still  later, 
when  we  began  to  thresh,  all  the  people  in  our 
home  were  so  sad.  Then  I  did  not  know  why 
they  were  so  sad  and  I  was  troubled,  because, 
I  remembered,  before,  even  though  I  was 
very  little,  that  during  threshing  there  was 
so  much  shooting  and  songs  and  music  and 
dancing.  Now  there  was  none  of  these,  but 
all  the  people  were  silent  and  worked  like 
bees,  and  in  the  evening  they  gathered  be- 
fore our  house  and  they  talked  very  long  and 
they  scolded,  and  my  deda  read  a  paper. 
There  must  have  been  something  terrible  in 
this  paper  because  my  deda  became  very 

*  One  of  the  greatest  national  Serbian  holidays  —  the  15th 
of  June.  This  same  day,  1914,  the  Crown  Prince  Ferdinand 
was  killed  in  Serajevo. 


OUR  CHILD 


angry  and  he  would  exclaim:  *A  Vranyo!  A 
Vranyo!  ^  God  shall  pay  you  for  this!* 

"Just  when  we  finished  our  threshing,  one 
night  the  bells  began  to  ring,  the  drums  to 
beat,  prangea  '^  to  shoot,  and  the  beerov  ^  ran 
along  the  road  crying  zeelcezatsia.^  So  war 
came  again!  My  father  and  cheeka  had  to  go 
right  away.  Bogo-moi !  how  we  children  and 
baba  (grandmother)  wept!  Deda  talked  to 
us,  and  my  father  said:  'Don't  weep,  be- 
cause the  fathers  who  have  little  children  can- 
not be  killed.  You  see,  I  came  back  from  the 
other  war  ^  alive.' 

"Then  we  were  quiet  because  we  believed 
our  father.  Cheeka  went  this  same  night,  and 
my  father  the  next  day  to  Shabatz.  Then  our 
house  became  quiet  as  the  dead  and  the  vil- 
lage, too.  Our  school  was  closed,  and  deda 
would  n't  let  me  go  after  our  flock  of  sheep ! 
My  nana  took  me  very  often  on  her  lap  and 
I  could  hear  her  say:  *A  Vranyo,  God  shall 
kill  you ! '  and  I  thought  that  God  would  cer- 

*  Name  which  Serbian  peasants  use  for  the  Austrian  Em- 
peror, Franz  Josef  I. 

*  Small  gun.  '  Village  policeman. 

*  He  could  not  pronounce  "  mobilization."        '  1912-13. 

225 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


tainly  kill  him  with  lightning  and  then  the 
war  could  stop  right  away." 

"And  do  you  know  who  was  Vranyo?"  in- 
terrupted Trailo  suddenly,  angry  and  im- 
patient with  the  child.  Trailo  was  a  strange 
soldier.  He  was  from  the  most  wild,  moun- 
tainous, and  hidden  part  of  Serbia.  He  grew 
as  wild  as  the  nature  around  him.  When  he 
was  taken  into  military  service,  he  liked  it 
very  much  and  remained  in  it.  For  nine  years 
of  military  service  he  got  the  rank  of  sergeant. 
He  grew  up  in  the  Homoly  Mountains  and 
had  no  education.  He  was  naturally  clever 
and  had  acquired  considerable  knowledge 
since  being  in  the  army.  He  was  an  excellent 
soldier,  a  fearless  warrior,  somewhat  wild  and 
rough  in  spite  of  his  nine  years  of  discipline, 
and  was  always  angry  if  a  private  knew  more 
than  he.  The  serious  talk  of  the  child  seemed 
strange  to  him,  and  he  jealously  compared  it 
with  his  own  knowledge,  and  so  made  this 
rough  exclamation. 

Little  Rada  looked  at  him  wonderingly, 
shrugged  his  shoulders,  smiled,  and  said: 
"God  with  you!  How  could  I  not  know  who 
226 


OUR  CHILD 


Vranyo  is!  He  was  the  king  of  the  Shwaba  ^ 
who  stole  our  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina,  and 
who  hates  all  Serbians,  and  because  he  hates 
us  he  is  making  war  with  us!" 

The  soldiers  began  to  murmur:  "A  very 
wise  child!"  "A  clever  little  head!"  "A 
strange  child ! "  *'  How  can  he  know  all  this?  " 
Cheda  became  angry.  He  had  listened  to  the 
child's  story,  and  having  children  of  his  own 
he  knew  that  little  Rada  was  not  so  different 
from  others,  but  terribly  unhappy.  So  he 
began  to  chide  the  soldiers  around  him:  — 

"What  are  you  jabbering?  Crazy!  What  is 
there  strange  here?  Instead  of  this  little  one 
learning  from  his  counting-frame  under  the 
tender  chiding  of  his  mother,  instead  of  chas- 
ing butterflies  and  making  toy  whistles  and 
popguns,  a  dreadful  fate  has  compelled  him 
to  bind  one  day  to  another  by  pitiless  hunger 
and  hardship.  And  he  has  learned  all.  That 
is  the  difference!  Is  there  anything  strange? 
Now,  shut  up!  —  Go  on,  my  little  heart," 
he  said  tenderly  to  Rada  and  caressed  his  hair. 

1  All  Teutonic  people  are  called  "Shwaba"  by  Serbians. 
It  is  a  name  of  derision. 

227 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


Rada  wrapped  himself  closer  in  his  blanket, 
took  a  small  piece  of  wood,  and  began  to  poke 
the  fire  with  it.  Then  he  said  very  slowly  and 
sadly:  — 

"I  thought  my  father  never  told  lies,  but, 
bogo-moi !  he  told  them.  He  said  that  fathers 
who  have  little  children  are  not  killed,  but  it 
was  only  two  weeks  after  he  went  away  that 
we  heard  that  he  was  killed.  Then  it  was  ter- 
rible in  our  house.  My  nana  screamed  so,  and 
tore  her  hair  so,  that  I  thought  she  would  die, 
too;  and  because  of  that  we  children  cried 
more.  Baba  got  sick,  and  deda  when  he  had 
put  the  black  flag  on  our  door  wept,  too;  we 
had  never  seen  him  weep  before.  My  nana 
did  not  want  to  eat  anything,  but  she  wanted 
to  go  away  and  find  my  dead  father  and  bring 
him  back  to  our  village  and  bury  him  there. 
Only  deda  held  her  back. 

*'I  heard  in  our  village,  and  from  my  deda 
and  from  my  streena  ^  too,  that  our  place  was 
very  near  to  the  frontier  and  that  the  Shwaba 
could  come  there  very  easily.  The  other 
children  had  heard  the  same,  so  together  we 

»  Aunt. 

228 


OUR  CHILD 


all  went  to  Laleecha  Hill  which  was  toward 
Loznitza,  where  we  dug  trenches,  made  flags, 
and  swords,  and  slings,  and  carried  pebbles 
from  the  brooks  that  we  might  be  able  to  wait 
for  the  Shwaba  and  defend  our  village. 

"Bata  Meele,  my  oldest  brother,  was  our 
captain.  You  know  he  was  the  strongest  boy 
in  our  village,  and  he  said  we  should  not  fear 
the  Shwaba  even  if  many  of  them  came.  The 
whole  vUlage  was  so  frightened.  Nothing  was 
talked  of  but  how  the  Shwaba  would  come 
and  kill  all  of  us,  and  burn  up  everything. 
Then  I  was  frightened,  too,  and  I  did  not  go 
to  Laleecha  Hill  any  more,  but  stayed  beside 
my  nana  and  my  deda.  Many  were  getting 
ready  to  fly,  and  once  my  streena  said  this  to 
deda.  Oh,  bogo-moi,  I  never  saw  my  deda  so 
angry :  *What !  To  leave  my  home,  my  fields, 
my  cattle,  the  black  flag?  Never!  And  then  the 
Shwabas  are  not  Turks,  they  do  nothing  bad 
to  the  women  and  children ! '  said  my  deda,  and 
I  became  quiet  because  I  believed  him.  Bogo- 
moi,  you  see,  I  know  now  that  he  told  lies,  too. 

"Since  the  beginning  of  war  we  had  always 
heard  cannon,  but  they  were  very  far  off.  By 
229 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


and  by  we  heard  them  nearer  and  nearer. 
And  just  at  Sw.  Panteleea  [little  holiday, 
August  30]  the  cannon  boomed  at  Tser.  All 
the  people  were  frightened.  From  all  the  vil- 
lages around  us  the  people  ran  through  our 
village  toward  Valievo.  And  there  were  so 
many  people !  All  women  and  children !  Then 
many  wagons  of  komora  began  to  pass  through 
our  village  toward  Valievo.  And  the  soldiers 
were  everywhere.  Bogo-moi!  There  were  so 
many!  They  went  everywhere  and  toward 
Tser. 

"After  two  days  the  cannon  were  heard  at 
Laleecha  Hill  and  even  the  guns,  and  this  was 
very  near.  Then  no  more  people  nor  komora, 
but  soldiers  and  wounded  went  through  our 
village.  You  know,  a  hundred  wagons  full  of 
wounded  had  passed  along  our  road,  and  how 
many  walked  I  could  not  tell  you.  The  whole 
day  I  did  nothing  but  stand  on  our  fence  with 
a  jar  of  water,  giving  it  to  them.  And  nana 
stood  at  the  door  and  gave  pogacha,^  honey 
and  sugar,  always  saying : '  For  the  sake  of  the 
soul  of  my  soldier.' 

^  A  sort  of  hard  bread. 
230 


OUR  CHILD 


**The  third  day,  early  in  the  morning,  our 
soldiers  began  to  dig  trenches  at  our  Laleecha, 
you  know,  just  there,  where  we  dug  them  be- 
fore.   Then  the  cannon  boomed  very  near. 
At  noon  our  soldiers  began  to  shoot  from 
Laleecha,  but  the  Austrian  shells  fell  in  our 
village.   Oh!  Bogo-moi!   How  terrible  it  was 
then !   Then  our  deda  was  frightened  and  or- 
dered us  to  go  down  to  the  cellar.  Afterwards 
there  came  many  women  with  their  children 
from  our  neighborhood  to  our  cellar,  because 
our  house  was  made  of  stone  and  was  very 
strong.  Bogo-moi !  How  all  the  women  cried 
and  the  children  screamed!    My  nana  took 
me  and  my  little  sister  in  her  arms,  and  bata 
Bora,  you  know  he  was  my  brother  next  older 
than  me,  was  sitting  on  the  ground  with  his 
head  hidden  in  nana's  lap.  Nana  did  not  cry, 
but  kissed  us  and  told  us  to  be  silent.   And 
my  bata  Meele  stood  at  the  door  of  the  cellar 
and  cried  to  us  often:  'Don't  be  scared,  La- 
leecha is  stUl  holding ! ' 

"Then  the  night  came,  and  you  know  how 
terrible  it  is  in  the  cellar  at  night !  I  thought 
that  no  one  could  see  to  work  in  the  night; 
231 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


because  of  that  I  thought  they  would  stop 
shooting.  But  I  was  mistaken.  They  began 
to  shoot  more,  so  that  our  whole  house  shook 
like  a  little  straw.  Then  I  thought  that  *they  * 
must  be  real  devils  because  they  could  see  in 
the  darkness. 

"Suddenly  bata  Meele,  who  always  went 
to  the  door,  cried:  *Fire!  Fire!  The  whole 
village  is  in  flames!'  Oh!  Bogo-moi!  How  we 
all  began  to  moan  and  scream!  My  nana 
kneeled  and  told  us  to  kneel  and  clasp  our 
hands.  Then  I  and  bata  Bora  kneeled,  and 
even  our  little  sister,  and  we  clasped  our 
hands,  and  nana  took  them  in  hers  and  we 
said  our  prayers  to  God.  Stanikich's  house, 
you  know,  the  house  of  our  neighbor,  was 
all  in  flames,  and  the  light  came  through  the 
windows,  and  the  cellar  was  as  light  as  day. 
Then  I  saw  that  all  the  women  and  children 
were  kneeling  and  saying  their  prayers  to 
God. 

**  Suddenly  my  deda  came  in  carrying  the 

black  flag,  and  said  to  my  nana:  'Take  off 

Rada's  shirt  and  tie  it  beside  this  black  flag. 

His  shirt  is  white  and,  besides,  that  is  luck, 

232 


OUR  CHILD 


too!*  *  Then  my  nana  began  to  cry,  too.  And 
I  felt  that  she  was  shivering  all  over  when  she 
took  off  my  shirt.  Then  she  tied  the  sleeves 
of  my  shirt  beside  the  black  flag,  and  deda 
carried  it  out.  Then  my  nana  kissed  me  hard 
so  many  times.  When  deda  came  in  again  he 
said  to  us  that  we  must  not  cry  any  longer. 
Oh,  how  beautifully  my  deda  spoke!  I  could 
not  exactly  tell  you  all  he  said,  but  he  talked 
so  beautifully  that  all  the  women  stopped 
crying,  and  only  the  children  still  cried.  Then 
my  nana  took  me  and  my  little  sister  in  her 
arms  again  and  bata  Bora  hid  his  face  in  her 
lap.  Little  sister  went  to  sleep,  but  Bora  and 
I  could  not  sleep.  The  cannon  boomed  still 
louder  and  the  house  shook  more  and  more. 
And  so  the  night  passed. 

"Before  morning  the  cannon  stopped,  but 
the  guns  began  shooting  terribly  right  in  our 
village.  A  little  while  after  a  horrible  yell 
came.  Then  the  women  began  to  cry  again 
and  the  children  moaned  and  wailed.  I  was  so 
frightened  that  I  could  n't  cry.    But  it  was 

^  The  white  garment  of  innocent  children  is  thought  to  save 
from  evil  those  who  carry  it. 

£33 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


not  for  a  long  time.  The  guns  grew  less  and 
less  and  the  yells  farther  and  farther,  and 
after  a  while  we  heard  nothing.  Yet  no  one 
moved  in  the  cellar  and  we  were  all  still. 

**I  think,  about  noon,  we  heard  voices  right 
in  our  yard.  Deda  exclaimed:  *Pst!  Not  a 
sound!*  And  my  nana  put  her  hand  over  lit- 
tle sister's  mouth  because  she  was  crying. 
Suddenly  the  door  of  the  cellar  opened  and  I 
saw  plainly  four  of  the  Shwaba's  soldiers.  I 
thought  that  the  Shwabas  could  not  speak  our 
language,  because  I  heard  from  my  teacher 
that  they  speak  their  own  language,  but  now, 
one  of  them  cried  in  exactly  our  Serbian  lan- 
guage:^ *Hey,  is  somebody  down  there?*  "We 
were  all  silent.  Then  the  Shwabas  began  to 
laugh  and  to  shoot  at  us.^  Oh!  Bogo-moi! 
How  dreadful  it  was!  The  women  and  chil- 
dren fell  to  the  ground.    There  was  terrible 

^  In  Croatia  exists  the  so-called  "Franks'"  political  party. 
The  Austrian  Government  in  its  "device,"  "Divide  et  im- 
pera,"  had  succeeded  so  far  in  severing  these  p>eople  that  they 
had  become  enemies  of  Serbia.  Croatians  speak  the  Serbian 
language. 

^  How  the  Austrians  waged  the  war  in  Serbia  one  might  see 
from  the  books  of  R.  A.  Reiss,  Professor  of  Lausanne,  Dr.  A. 
van  Tienhoven,  of  Amsterdam,  and  from  the  official  editions 
of  the  Serbian  Government.    (Author.) 

234 


OUR  CHILD 


screaming  and  moaning!  Oh!  Bogo-moi!  My 
grandmother  fell  and  deda  right  away  beside 
her.  I  thought  he  was  killed  too.  Oh,  I 
can't  tell  you  all,  for  I  don't  know  all.  Only 
I  distinctly  saw  when  bata  Bora's  head  was 
smashed  in  nana's  lap.  After  that  I  don't 
know  anything  that  happened.  My  nana  had 
screamed  so  and  pressed  me  and  my  little 
sister  so,  so  hard  in  her  arms  that  I  thought 
she  would  choke  us.  Afterwards,  deda  told 
me  that  he  thought  they  would  never  stop 
shooting  and  that  we  would  all  be  killed,  but 
that  one  among  the  Shwabas  said:  'Don't 
shoot  any  more,  you  make  a  hole  in  the  casks 
of  brandy!'" 

As  the  little  martyr  revealed  his  unhappy 
heart  in  this  icy  night,  the  soldiers  drew  more 
and  more  close,  making  a  crowd.  At  the  last 
words  of  little  Rada  many  of  them  got  up 
and  kneeled,  paying  no  attention  to  the  heat 
and  stifling  smoke;  they  bent  toward  the 
child,  putting  both  hands  near  their  ears, 
and  listened  to  the  little  one  with  open  mouth 
and  staring  eyes.  Oh,  those  eyes!  That  one 
had  seen  them  at  this  moment !  Perhaps  one 
235 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


could  then  understand  what  the  culmination 
of  horrors  created  by  pain  and  weakness 
means.  Cheda  still  sat  quietly  beside  me. 
Only  he  bent  his  head  still  lower  between  his 
legs,  letting  his  hands  fall  to  the  ground, 
clenching  the  frozen  earth  with  his  nails. 

Little  Rada,  who  perhaps  in  his  angelic 
innocence  and  his  ideal  childish  heart,  did 
not  fully  realize  the  dreadfulness  of  his  story, 
seeing  this  look  on  the  soldiers'  faces,  became 
frightened  and  asked  in  a  scared  way:  — 

"Do  you  want  that  I  should  tell  you  still 
more?" 

An  old  soldier,  nearest  to  Rada,  all  black, 
with  great  tears  running  down  his  dirty 
cheeks  (auh!  it  is  only  from  smoke!),  said  to 
him:  — 

"Tell  us,  tell  us,  little  one!  We  are  listen- 
ing to  you.  Afterwards  it  will  be  much  easier 
for  you.   I  know  it!'* 

Rada,  in  a  scared  way,  lifted  his  head,  and 
looked  at  me  questioningly  with  his  beautiful 
eyes.  I  shivered.  In  this  one  look  I  under- 
stood what  we  were  to  each  other  and  felt 
how  much  I  was  beginning  to  love  him.  I 
236 


OUR  CHILD 


wanted  to  kiss  him,  but  I  was  ashamed,  and 
only  pressed  him  more  closely  in  my  arms 
and  whispered :  — 

"Go  on,  my  little  heart!" 

"Right  away  after,"  proceeded  Rada  more 
seriously  and  sadly,  "they  took  us  out  from 
the  cellar.  Then  I  saw  that  our  yard  was  full 
of  soldiers  who  took  us  to  the  soodnitsa.  ^  Oh ! 
Bogo-moi!  How  many  people  were  there! 
And  how  frightened  they  were!  The  little 
children  did  nothing  but  scream,  and  the 
older  ones  did  not  cry,  but  they  shivered,  and 
even  my  deda  too.  The  Shwabas  had  sur- 
rounded us  from  all  sides.  How  they  swore 
and  laughed.  Some  of  them  we  could  under- 
stand, but  the  others  we  could  not  at  all. 
We  could  see  that  they  were  very  angry.  But 
the  most  important  among  them  was  a  cap- 
tain. Oh!  Bogo-moi!  He  was  raging.  Even 
the  Shwaba  soldiers  shivered  before  him.  He 
did  not  know  Serbian  at  all,  but  he  had  beside 
him  another  officer  who  spoke  Serbian  as  well 
as  my  teacher.  And  this  one  raged  and  swore 
terribly. 

»  Town  hall. 

237 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


"Suddenly  the  captain  began  to  laugh  like 
a  crazy  man  and  talk  to  the  other  who  knew 
Serbian.  And  this  one  began  to  laugh  still 
more.  Then  he  came  closer  to  the  people  and 
said:  *A11  the  children  on  one  side,  and  the 
older  ones  in  one  line ! '  Oh !  Bogo-moi !  And 
nana  held  my  little  sister  in  her  arms,  but 
when  she  heard  these  words  she  screamed  and 
staggered.  Only  deda  held  her  and  kept  her 
from  falling.  She  grasped  us  in  her  arms  and 
cried:  'I  will  not  give  up  my  children!'  But 
a  Shwaba  soldier  came  to  her,  swore  at  her 
awfully,  and  tore  us  from  nana's  arms,  and 
carried  us  to  the  steps  of  the  soodnitsa  where 
all  the  other  children  were.  Auh!  How 
many  screams  there  were!  Many  children 
wanted  to  run  back  to  their  nanas  but  the 
Shwabas  who  were  standing  near  the  steps 
pushed  them  with  their  guns,  or  feet,  or  legs, 
and  they  fell  back  again.  I  was  holding  my 
little  sister.  I  kissed  her  and  begged  her  not 
to  cry,  but  she  cried  more  and  more  until  I 
thought  she  would  strangle. 

"Then  the  Shwaba  soldiers  began  to  beat 
the  people  and  put  them  in  one  line.  My  nana 
238 


OUR  CHILD 


was  standing  beside  deda.  My  good  nana! 
Oh,  my  poor  nana!  She  was  as  pale  as  death, 
she  swayed  like  a  tree  in  a  gale,  and  on  her 
skirt  she  had  a  big  splash  of  blood  from  bata 
Bora's  head.  Oh,  my  poor  bata  Bora!  But 
my  deda  always  said  that  it  was  much  better 
that  he  was  killed  in  the  very  beginning.  I 
did  not  see  bata  Meele  nor  my  aunt.  We 
never  knew  what  happened  to  her.  My  nana 
never  took  her  eyes  from  us. 

**Then  the  captain  stopped  laughing  and 
came  to  one  end  of  the  line,  and  began  to 
pinch  the  cheek  of  every  one  in  the  line.  Oh, 
how  terribly  this  nasty  man  pinched!  Poor 
men!  Every  single  one  who  screamed  was 
carried  off  right  away  somewhere  by  two 
Shwabas  who  ran  to  him.  Afterwards,  deda 
told  that  they  were  killed  right  off.  When 
the  captain  came  to  my  deda,  my  breathing 
stopped!  But  my  deda  didn't  scream!  Be- 
cause, you  know,  my  deda  was  a  very  strong 
man.  And  when  he  came  to  my  nana,  I 
wanted  to  run  to  defend  her,  but  I  could  n't 
because  my  feet  were  heavy  (with  terror). 
And  when  that  wolf  lifted  his  hand  to  pinch 
239 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


my  nana,  I  hid  my  head  on  my  sister's  breast 
and  waited  to  hear  my  nana  scream.  Oh, 
thanks  to  thee,  God!  My  nana  did  not 
scream.  When  I  hfted  my  head  and  opened 
my  eyes,  I  saw  the  captain  laughing  and 
pointing  to  the  blood  on  nana's  lap.  Then 
my  nana  suddenly  tiu*ned  red,  and  shivered 
all  over  and  shook  her  hands,  crying  very 
angrily:  'This  is  the  blood  of  my  child  whom 
you  have  killed.  Inhuman  man!'  My  heart 
stopped  beating.  What  will  happen  now? 
When  the  other  officer  told  the  captain  what 
my  nana  said,  both  began  to  laugh  again, 
and  went  farther  to  pinch  the  people.  I  grew 
easier. 

"When  they  were  through  with  pinching, 
many  people  were  taken  away,  but  many 
stayed.  Then  the  officer  ordered  that  all  the 
people  come  closer  to  the  steps  where  the 
children  were,  and  he  went  up  on  the  porch 
and  began  to  talk.  I  could  n't  tell  you  all  he 
said,  but  he  swore  terribly.  Finally  he  ex- 
claimed :  — 

"'Listen  now,  beasts!  The  whole  of  Serbia 
is  under  the  Austrian  Emperor  now.  There 
240 


OUR  CHILD 


is  no  longer  a  Serbian  king.  He  is  a  slave  as 
you  are.  Because  of  this  you  have  to  love 
only  one  Emperor  and  this  is  Franz  Josiv.^ 
Now,  when  I  say,  "  Long  life  to  Franz  Josiv 
the  First,"  you  must  all  say,  "Long  life!" 
Boga-vam!  Every  one  who  will  not  say  it 
will  be  hung  right  away.  You  understand 
me,  swine!* 

**0h!  Bogo-moi!  I  nearly  died  from  fear. 
What  will  happen  now  to  my  little  sister? 
She  did  n't  know  anything!  Oh,  you  know, 
she  was  so  little,  and  she  cried  and  cried  .  .  . 
I  wanted  to  bend  down  to  her  and  tell  her  to 
say,  'Long  life,'  but  I  did  n't  dare  to  move. 
And  nana  and  deda  from  above  looked  at 
us  so  with  their  eyes.  The  Shwabas  came  so 
close  to  us  and  looked  sharply  into  every- 
body's face.  The  captain  was  standing  near 
the  steps  turning  in  all  directions.  I  must  tell 
you  that  they  did  not  notice  the  children  so 
much,  excepting  one  soldier,  who  was  all  red 
and  terrible  and  who  just  stared  up  at  us. 
Oh!  Bogo-moi!     Perhaps  he  was  the  most 

^  Little  Rada  could  not  pronounce  the  name  of  His  Apostolic 
Majesty,  Franz  Josef  the  First. 

241 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


drunk  of  all  the  Shwabas.  And  my  little  sister 
still  cried  and  cried  .  .  . 

"  Suddenly  the  officer  yelled  from  the  porch : 
*  Long  life  to  Franz  Josiv  the  First ! '  Immedi- 
ately I  cried  'Long  life'  as  loudly  as  I  could, 
so  as  to  overcome  the  crying  of  my  little 
sister.  But  I  did  n't  even  finish  before  the  red 
soldier  grasped  my  little  sister,  like  a  sack, 
and  took  her  down  to  the  captain's  feet.  And 
many  other  Shwabas  had  pulled  many  men 
and  women  from  the  crowd  by  their  beards 
or  necks.  There  was  a  terrible  noise!  I  ran 
down  to  my  little  sister,  and  my  nana  was 
there.  Yaoyl  How  she  clasped  her!  The 
officer  ran  down  from  the  porch.  Bogo-moi! 
how  he  swore!  How  he  struck  the  people! 
He  would  n't  listen  to  the  older  people,  but 
sent  them  somewhere,  tying  some  of  them 
first  with  ropes  and  cords.  When  they  were 
done  with  them,  then  the  officer  went  to  my 
little  sister.  Bogo-moi!  How  ugly  he  looked ! 
A  real  devil!  But  he  only  exclaimed:  *Aeh, 
little  swine!  You  will  have  to  learn  in  your 
littleness  that  you  must  love  the  Emperor. 
But  we  will  try  to  teach  you  how  now ! '  Then 


OUR  CHILD 


my  nana  fell  on  her  knees  and  began  to  beg 
them.  Poor  nana!  How  she  wept,  how  she 
begged:  'Oh,  sir,  so  help  me  God,  she  does  n't 
know  anything!  You  see  how  little  she  is! 
She  loves  your  Emperor!  We  all  love  him! 
Don't  do  anything  to  her,  please,  I  beg  you, 
don't!  Truly  she  is  so,  so  little!  Here,  kill 
me!' 

"I  kneeled  and  begged  them  too.  Even  I 
wanted  to  kiss  the  hand  of  the  captain.  Then 
they  began  to  talk  something  in  their  lan- 
guage, among  themselves,  for  a  long  time. 
Finally,  the  officer  asked  my  nana  what  her 
name  was  and  wrote  it  on  a  piece  of  paper 
and  put  it  in  his  pocket,  and  said  to  the  red, 
drunken  soldier:  *To  Shabatz!'  Then  the 
soldier  lifted  my  nana,  and  another  one 
grasped  me,  and  took  us  to  the  church  close. 
And  so  we  were  separated  from  our  deda. 

"In  the  church  close  were  many  people 
standing  in  rows  of  four,  and  around  them 
were  lots  of  Shwabas  with  guns.  When  we 
came  there  they  put  us,  too,  into  rows.  My 
nana  held  me  and  my  sister  in  her  arms  and 
kissed  us  often.  Quickly  we  started  from 
£43 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


there.  Oh !  Bogo-moi !  I  could  n't  tell  you 
all ;  it  was  a  dreadful  journey.  All  that  night 
and  all  the  next  forenoon  we  walked  and 
walked.  How  the  Shwabas  beat  the  poor 
men  and  women  who  could  n't  walk  any 
farther!  My  nana  carried  my  little  sister  all 
the  way,  and  many  times  she  wanted  to  carry 
me,  but  I  did  not  let  her.  My  poor  nana !  I 
knew  how  she  suffered !  I  could  hardly  walk. 
Many  times  I  just  could  n't  go  any  farther, 
and  I  felt  as  if  I  must  fall.  But  then  I  thought, 
if  I  fall,  my  nana  will  stop,  and  if  she  stops, 
they  will  strike  her  right  away.  And  so  I  kept 
going. 

*'  The  next  day  at  noon  we  came  to  Shabatz. 
Bogo-moi!  If  you  could  only  see  Shabatz! 
All  the  houses  were  destroyed  and  burned 
down.  And  everywhere  so  many  Shwabas 
with  flowers  in  their  caps!  How  they  sang! 
How  they  shouted!  And  the  big  'tombiles'^ 
were  whirring  in  all  the  streets!  They  locked 
us  up  in  a  magaza^  near  the  church;  it  had 
no  roof  because  it  had  been  broken  in.  We 
were  very  cold  and  wet  by  the  rain  many 

^  Automobiles.  ^  A  large  warehouse. 


OUR  CHILD 


times.  Bogo-moi,  how  many  people  were 
there!  But  only  women,  girls,  and  children. 
We  were  just  piled  on  top  of  each  other. 
But  after  a  few  days  there  were  less  and  less, 
because  the  Shwabas,  in  the  nights,  took  out 
a  great  many  of  the  girls,  and  even  the 
women,  our  mothers.  How  terribly  their 
children  cried.  But  it  was  easier  for  us  who 
were  left.  Then  we  could  lie  down  on  the 
ground.  The  Shwabas  did  not  give  us  any- 
thing but  bread  and  water. 

"The  very  first  day  my  little  sister  got 
sick.  She  would  n't  eat  the  bread  at  all,  but 
she  asked  for  so  much  water.  My  nana  cried 
and  held  my  sister  all  day  long,  she  moaned 
so  sadly.  Oh!  Bogo-moi!  Every  time  a 
Shwaba  came  in,  my  nana  begged  him  piti- 
fully to  bring  a  doctor,  but  not  one  would 
listen  to  her.  And  so  these  awful  days  went 
by.  I  was  sick,  too,  but  I  did  n't  dare  to  tell 
my  poor  nana. 

"One  night,  when  none  of  us  slept  because 

there  were  so  many  sick  children,  and  women, 

too,  who  moaned  terribly,  we  heard  cannon 

very  far  off.  Oh,  if  you  could  have  seen  these 

^5 


srKr>TA  CKmrii-n 


poor  people  then!  EverylKxly  got  up  aiui 
bt^an  to  whisi>er:  *Tliey  are  coining!*  *IIert» 
are  Serbians  exnning!'  'Tliey  will  Siwe  us!' 
Bogo-moi!  How  glad  and  happy  I  was!  My 
nana  kneokxl  over  my  little  siek  lister,  foldtxl 
her  hiuids,  and  Siiid:  *0  Gixl.  Goii  help  them! 
Help  them  that  they  can  help  us!' 

"But  next  day.  early  in  the  morning,  when 
we  heard  the  cannon  neart^r.  a  soldier  came  in 
and  read  nana's  name.  I  got  so  stitl'l  >Vhat 
will  happen  now?  The  soldier  onlertxi  my 
nana  to  take  my  little  sister  and  follow  him. 
and  he  ttx^k  me  under  his  arm  like  a  goone. 
^Ye  went  through  the  town  a  long  ways  until 
we  came  to  a  big  house  which  had  not  been 
sjHiiled  very  much.  "NVhen  we  went  into  a 
room.  I  saw  the  otlicer  who  had  spoken  Ser- 
bian in  our  village.  I  was  so  frighteuixi.  when 
I  saw  him.  that  both  my  legs  were  numb.  In 
tlie  room  were  thrcv  other  otHcers.  They 
looked  at  us  very  angrily  for  a  while.  After- 
wards the  othcer  can\e  close  to  nana  and  said: 
'You  see,  we  savetl  tlie  life  of  yom-  daughter. 
even  though  we  had  the  full  right  to  kill  her. 
Now,  you  have  to  do  something  for  us.'  He 
^240 


OUR  CHILD 


turned  to  the  other  officers  and  they  talked 
in  the  Shwaba's  language  very  seriously.  My 
nana  was  standing,  as  white  as  the  wall,  and 
my  heart  was  beating  awfully.  Then  the 
officer  turned  to  nana  again  and  said,  very 
sternly:  'Kiss  your  children,  for  this  will  be 
the  last  time,  if  you  are  foolish  and  do  not 
listen  to  us.' 

"My  nana  only  screamed  and  fell  on  her 
knees  and  began  to  cry :  *  Oh,  sir,  don't,  I  beg 
of  you,  don't  do  anything  to  my  children!  Do 
anything  you  want  with  me,  but  not  with 
them.  Oh,  please,  I  beg  you  as  of  God!  I 
have  already  lost  two  of  my  children  and  these 
two  are  all  that  are  left  to  me!'  The  officer 
got  very  angry.  *  Crazy  animal !  We  will  not 
do  anything  to  your  brats!  All  we  want  of 
you  is  to  go  to  a  place,  which  we  will  tell  you, 
and  come  back.' 

*'When  my  nana  heard  this  she  began  to 
cry  more  and  to  plead:  *0h,  sir,  good  sir,  I 
cannot  leave  my  children  alone!  Look  here! 
Look  here,  how  sick  my  little  one  is !  So  help 
me  God,  she  is  terribly  sick!  Oh,  my  God,  she 
is  dying!  And  she  will  certainly  die  without 
247 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


me ! '  The  officer  got  so  angry  that  he  stamped 
on  the  ground.  The  other  officers  got  up  and 
came  closer.  And  they  swore  terribly.  The 
officer  then  came  very  close  with  his  face  to 
my  nana's  face,  and  began  to  shake  his  fists, 
and  scream:  *Ah,  because  of  that  we  will  be 
sure  that  you  will  come  back.  We  do  not  ask 
anything  very  terrible  from  you!  You  know 
the  whole  district?  Now,  you  will  go  to  a 
place  which  we  will  tell  to  you,  you  will  see 
there  something  which  we  will  tell  to  you, 
and  you  will  come  back  right  off  and  tell  us 
what  you  saw.  This  place  is  not  very  far  from 
here.  To  go  there,  to  see  what  we  want,  and 
to  come  back  will  take  three  days.  You  will 
see  your  children  again  after  three  days!  But 
if  you  do  not  come  back  in  the  morning  of  the 
third  day,  at  noon  both  of  your  children  will 
be  killed!   Hae!  killed,  killed!' 

*'My  nana  fell  with  her  face  on  the  ground. 
Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  how  awful  it  was!  My 
nana  got  up  very  quickly  and  began  to  clasp 
and  kiss  the  knees  of  the  officers  and  she 
begged  terribly.  I  kissed  both  hands  of  that 
wolf  officer.  And  my  little  sister  was  lying  on 
243 


OUR  CHILD 


the  ground,  writhing  with  pain  and  crying 
dreadfully!  Oh!  Bogo-moi!  Even  an  icy 
stone  would  have  grown  soft  at  my  nana's 
crying,  but  these  men  were  real  devils  and 
they  would  not  hear  anything.  Not  anything! 

*'Then  two  soldiers  came  in  —  two  terrible 
soldiers  —  and  took  us  from  our  nana  —  my 
poor  nana  —  my  good  nana  —  how  she 
scratched,  terribly  scratched  everybody  — 
and  struck,  struck  their  ugly  faces!  And  I 
scratched  and  bit,  too,  and  cried.  But  they 
tore  us  from  our  nana  —  and  they  threw  us 
out  —  oh!  Bogo-moi!  I  never  —  I  never  saw 
my  nana  again  —  never  again  my  good  nana 
—  my  poor — " 

Slowly  and  more  slowly  the  unhappy  child 
spoke  and  his  last  words  died  away  in  the  icy 
night.  In  my  arms  he  grew  silent,  with  his 
head  laid  against  my  breast.  There  was  a 
heavy  stillness.  Only  the  freezing  wind  rose 
higher  and  higher  and  the  fire  was  going  out. 
On  my  hands  I  felt  the  hot  tears  fall,  the  silent 
quiet  tears  of  little  Rada  .  .  . 

"Oh,  kookoo-mene ! "  ^ 

*  Exclamation  of  sorrow. 
249 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


Afterwards  Rada  went  on  again  sadly. 
Oh,  I  can  never  tell  you  how  sad  this  little 
voice  was. 

*'0h,  kookoo-mene!  After  two  days,  the 
Serbians  came  to  Shabatz,  but  too  late.  My 
little  sister  died.  Oh!  Bogo-moi!  How  all 
those  women  in  the  magaza  cared  for  my  sick 
sister  after  our  nana  was  gone.  One  of  them 
had  even  torn  her  chemise  in  pieces  and  put 
them  in  cold  water  to  lay  on  sister's  head. 
I  said  prayers  all  day  to  save  my  little  sister, 
but  God  did  not  listen  to  me  .  .  . 

"Afterwards  the  Serbian  soldiers  took  me 
back  to  my  village  where  I  found  deda  and 
bata  Meele.  How  we  kissed  each  other  and  how 
we  wept!  Now  deda  cried  like  a  little  child 
.  .  .  Then  how  terribly  sad  were  the  passing 
days !  The  whole  day  we  would  sit  in  our  big 
house  without  talking.  Afterwards  we  fled 
again  away  down  to  Arangelovats.  When  the 
Shwabas  were  driven  out  again,  we  came  back 
to  our  home.  Winter  came.  Awful  winter! 
We  did  n't  have  anything  in  the  house  and 
we  had  to  live  on  bread  which  we  got  from 
our  Government.  Then  bata  Meele  got  sick 
250 


OUR  CHILD 


from  teevooz.^  Just  at  Christmas  Eve  we 
thought  he  would  die.  But,  Frantsoozee  ^ 
put  something  [serum]  in  his  back  and  he  got 
well.  When  the  springtime  came,  deda  and 
bata  Meele  began  to  work  right  away,  because 
everybody  said  our  country  needed  much 
wheat  and  every  one  must  work.  How  they 
worked  and  worked !  The  soldiers  helped,  too. 
I  took  care  of  the  poor  sheep  which  the 
Shwabas  had  not  taken  or  killed.  Hae!  How 
few  of  them  were  left!  But  I  loved  to  take 
care  of  them  because  I  was  in  the  mountains 
all  day,^  and  I  liked  to  be  alone. 

"That  year  just  when  we  wanted  to  thresh 
the  wheat,  the  Shwabas  came  again  just  as  be- 
fore, and  fought  us  with  all  their  power.  We 

*  Typhus  exactematicris,  which  had,  at  the  end  of  1914  and 
the  first  of  1915,  destroyed  one  third  of  all  the  Serbian  popu- 
lation. The  cradle  of  this  horrible  disease  was  Valevo  after  the 
second  retreat  of  the  Austrians,  where  they  left  more  than  six 
thousand  men  sick  with  this  dreadful  fever.   (Author.) 

*  Little  Rada  meant  the  French  doctors  who  came  im- 
mediately to  Serbia  and  bravely  fought  this  dread  disease. 
Thanks  to  the  French  doctors  the  disease  did  not  completely 
destroy  the  population.  Serbia  had  about  five  hundred  doctors. 
And  after  this  fever  had  raged  one  month,  one  hundred  and 
fifty  of  them  were  dead. 

^  Serbian  children  are  brought  up  to  be  alone  with  the 
flocks. 

251 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


had  to  fly  again.  We  had  ox-wagons  and  we 
went  in  them.  Oh,  how  many,  many  people 
had  to  go!  When  we  came  to  Valevo,  there 
were  so  many  people  that  I  thought  the  whole 
of  Serbia  was  flying,  and  it  was  very  hard  to 
move  along  the  road.  Oh,  Bogo-moi!  One 
dark  rainy  night  when  we  were  in  the  great 
mountains,  our  wagon  tipped  over.  I  was  not 
hurt,  but  bata  Meele  sprained  his  leg  and  poor 
deda's  head  was  awfully  bruised.  Oh,  my  poor 
deda !  He  died  after  two  days. 

"Then  I  and  bata  Meele  went  on  alone.  We 
could  n't  ride  because  our  oxen  were  killed, 
too.  How  we  suffered!  Everywhere  were  so 
many,  many  people!  Everything  cost  so 
much  and  we  did  n't  have  money.  Oh !  Bogo- 
moi!  How  long  we  walked!  When  we  came 
to  Krushevatz  I  lost  my  bata  Meele.  I  never 
saw  him  again.  One  day  he  heard  that  the 
Government  would  bring  some  wagons  with 
soldier's  bread  and  that  it  would  be  given  to 
the  people.  He  ran  right  off  to  the  station  and 
told  me  to  wait  on  a  bench  for  him.  I  waited 
and  waited,  but  he  never  came  again.  Then 
I  looked  for  him  everywhere  for  a  long  time, 
252 


OUR  CHILD 


but  I  never  found  him.  Only  I  heard  that  the 
people  around  the  wagons  were  so  thick  that 
many  were  killed. 

"Then  I  had  to  go  entirely  alone.  Oh! 
Bogo-moi !  When  my  bata  Meele  was  with  me 
he  knew  how  to  get  bread,  but  when  I  was 
alone  I  did  n't  know  how.  Oh,  such  dreadful 
days!  Many  times  I  thought  I  would  die, 
but  the  soldiers  passing  would  give  me  some- 
thing to  eat;  so  I  went  on.  But  on  the  last 
road  I  did  not  see  any  more  soldiers,  only  hun- 
gry people  like  me.  In  the  last  few  days  I 
could  not  walk  any  more  —  my  shoes  were  all 
worn  out  —  my  feet  froze  —  I  was  so  hun- 
gry —  I  thought  —  I  will  surely  .  .  ." 

A  long  painful  sigh  broke  from  little  Rada*s 
lips,  and  I  felt  two  powerful  hands  lift  him 
from  my  arms.  The  fire  had  gone  out.  It  was 
pitchy  dark  and  the  wind  shrieked  louder  and 
louder.  But  yet  through  its  shriek  I  heard  be- 
side me  the  moaning  of  little  Rada  and  his 
sweet  little  voice:  — 

**My  good,  my  good  cheeka  Cheda!'* 


253 


SERBL\   CRUCIFIED 


"What  will  we  do  with  him?"  I  asked 
Cheda  later  when  the  soldiers  had  rebuilt  the 
fires  and  the  child  was  sleeping  between  him 
and  me.  At  my  question  Cheda  started,  lifted 
his  head,  and  looked  at  me. 

"How,  what  will  we  do?  Keep  him!" 

**Ah,  Cheda,  I  did  not  doubt  this  for  a 
moment.   Only  how,  how?" 

"What!  More  than  seventy  men  cannot 
keep  a  child!"  exclaimed  Cheda  in  great 
astonishment. 

"Oh,  Cheda,  seventy  men!  To-day  we 
are ;  to-morrow  we  are  not !  Why  do  you  count 
us?  And  then,  there  are  marching,  flying,  re- 
treating, hunger,  cold,  snow,  and  a  hundred 
other  pains!  How  can  a  child,  a  little  one, 
endure  aU  these?" 

For  a  moment  Cheda  was  still.  His  face 
darkened  with  great  sorrow.  Then  he  made 
a  resolute  gesture  like  a  man  who  makes  a 
decision  in  his  mind,  and  he  said :  — 

"  Can  you  not  see  that  he  has  suffered  much 

more  than  we?  Poor  little  one,  he  is  used  to 

enduring  the  greatest  hardships  I  I  beg  of  you, 

Meecha,  listen  to  me.    When  I  found  this 

2o4 


OUR   CHILD 


child  moaning  and  dying  on  the  ground,  oh, 
my  God!  you  can't  imagine  how  dreadful  it 
was  to  me!  Because  I  am  a  father  I  have  will- 
ingly become  a  man  with  blood-stained  hands, 
a  murderer,  in  the  defense  of  these  little  ones. 
But  why  talk?  You  know  that  my  Boshko  is 
Rada's  age  .  .  .  and  that  is  all.  Thanks  to 
God,  we  still  have  our  komora  and  four 
horses  along  with  it.  Three  of  them  have  to 
haul,  but  Beeja,  the  little  horse,  has  not  had 
to  work  since  Lescovatz.  Rada  can  ride  on 
Beeja.  Julock  has  charge  of  the  komora,  you 
know.  He  will  keep  Rada  as  carefully  as  his 
own  eyes,  for  he  is  a  father  and  loves  children. 
The  komora  is  never  in  danger,  at  least  from 
the  Bulgarians.  WTien  Julock  brings  the  ra- 
tions at  night,  he  might  bring  Httle  Rada  along 
so  we  can  see  him.  Julock  comes  soon  now. 
Do  you  not  think  we  should  give  Rada  to 
him?" 

"Yes,  yes,  Cheda,  but  .  .  ." 

I,  too,  had  thought  of  gi\Tng  Rada  in 
charge  of  the  equipment  trains,  for  these  were 
usually  together  and  went  ahead  of  the  com- 
panies, sometimes  as  far  as  five  or  ten  miles. 
ii55 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


The  commander  of  each  company's  komora 
returned  at  night  with  one  horse,  bringing  the 
company's  rations  which  he  distributed. 
Certainly  Rada  would  be  safe  with  the 
komora. 

But,  I  anxiously  thought,  what  can  he  eat? 
Where  will  he  sleep?  And,  looking  down  on 
the  little  figure  under  the  thin  blanket,  I 
cried  out:  — 

"Can  you  not  see  that  he  is  naked  and 
barefooted?" 

Cheda  started  as  if  struck,  and  sighed :  — 
I    *' Yes,  how  can  we  send  him?" 

Suddenly  the  soldiers,  who  were  still  sit- 
ting around  my  fire,  began  to  move  and 
whisper  among  themselves.  And  from  among 
them  a  loud,  decisive  voice  spoke:  — 

"Eh,  that's  very  easy!" 

I  started,  and  Cheda  jumped,  knelt  and 
peered  into  the  crowd. 

"Who  is  that?"  he  asked  excitedly. 

A  small  soldier  whose  clothes  were  ragged 
and  burned,  with  his  cap  falling  over  his  ears 
down  to  his  shoulders,  crept  up  to  him  and 
said:  — 

256 


OUR  CHILD 


"That's  me,  Sergeant.  You  know  I  am  a 
tailor,  and  I  could  make  a  suit  for  him,  and 
I  .  .  ." 

"Shut  up,  crazy!  From  what?"  Cheda  was 
out  of  patience. 

After  these  words  the  soldiers  began  to 
move  and  whisper  among  themselves.  One 
after  another  they  slowly  got  up,  hiding  be- 
hind each  other,  and  went  out  somewhere  in 
the  darkness  of  the  cold,  windy  night.  Pres- 
ently they  came  quietly  back  again,  some- 
what abashed.  One  came  closer  to  the  fire, 
carrying  in  his  hand  a  coat,  and  said  in  an 
embarrassed  manner:  — 

"Why  .  .  .  you  know.  Lieutenant,  that  I 
have  two  coats.  And  this  one  I  cannot  carry 
any  longer;  it  is  too  heavy  .  .  .  you  could 
make  something  for  the  little  one  from  it." 
And  he  threw  the  coat  down  beside  the  fire. 

Another  came,  carrying  a  pair  of  trousers, 
saying  very  quickly :  — 

"Here,  you  can  see  that  I  have  two  pairs  of 

these.  Boga-me!  Two  pairs  of  trousers!  It  is 

so  warm.  I  just  want  to  throw  one  pair  away ! 

You  can  see  for  yourself  — "  And  he  opened 

257 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


his  overcoat.  I  recognized  the  thin,  green, 
summer  trousers  which  Serbian  soldiers  got 
last  year  from  Russia. 

Afterward  a  young  soldier  came  to  the 
fire.  He  was  the  youngest  and  most  handsome 
man  in  my  company,  whom  we  always  petted. 
He  tried  to  hide  something  in  his  hands,  and 
said  simply,  though  quite  embarrassed :  — 

"I  have  a  pair  of  stockings,  a  pair  of  em- 
broidered stockings.  I  have  kept  them  care- 
fully. I  got  them  from  my  girl,  from  my 
sweetheart,  when  I  left  the  village.  But  .  .  . 
listen,  shnaitsa,  cut  off  the  toes,  and  sew 
them  up  again,  and  then  they  will  fit  little 
Rada  .  .  ." 

Our  glavonya  ^  just  flew  to  the  fire,  and 
dashed  his  cap  on  the  ground,  scolding  ex- 
citedly :  — 

"Well,  I  will  not  suffer  from  you  any 
longer.  You  are  too  small!  And  since  my 
hair  grew  so  bushy  you  won't  go  on.  I  al- 
ways had  to  tie  you  with  a  string,  which  just 
killed  me  under  my  chin.  Eh,  you  won't  much 
longer!" 

'  A  man  with  a  very  large  head. 
258 


OUR  CHILD 


And  so  on.  Everybody  gave  something, 
and  all  did  it  with  a  willing  heart.  The  pile 
of  gifts  grew  wonderfully.  Not  only  was  there 
enough  for  Rada,  but  for  ten  other  children. 
The  little  tailor  knelt  before  the  pile,  the 
most  happy  of  all.  And  when  a  soldier  threw 
something  on  the  pile  he  would  say,  "Thank 
you,  thank  you,  brother!  It  is  very  good." 

In  the  beginning  Cheda  looked  at  all  this, 
but  soon  hid  his  head  between  his  knees.  And 
I,  I  could  n't  hide  my  emotion  and  tears. 

The  little  tailor  was  all  changed  by  his 
happy  smile.  He  looked  at  everything  with 
his  experienced  eyes  and  exclaimed :  — 

"Can  you  not  see,  Sergeant,  how  easy  it 
is!" 

But  suddenly  he  grew  serious,  his  happy 
face  darkened  and  he  exclaimed  in  a  dismayed 
tone: — 

"Mene  nesrechog!  I  have  only  needle  and 
thread,  but  no  shears,  and  here  one  will  have 
to  cut  very  much!" 

Shears!    What  consternation!    What  ter- 
ror!   What  is  to  be  done  now?    Was  little 
Rada  to  remain  naked  in  spite  of  all  of  these 
259 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


gifts,  this  perfect  generosity?  Really,  I  was 
very  anxious,  and  Cheda  lifted  his  head  and 
looked  around  with  a  questioning  glance. 
The  soldiers,  although  they  knew  that  they 
had  no  scissors,  unconsciously  felt  in  their 
pockets.  Suddenly  the  tailor  made  an  ex- 
clamation and  ran  to  me:  — 

"I  beg  you,  Lieutenant,  let  me  go.  I  re- 
member now.  I  have  a  friend  in  the  staff  of 
the  regiment  who  has  shears,  I  know.  Let  me 
go.  Boga-me !  I  will  come  back  before  Julock 
gets  here." 

We  all  grew  excited,  and  I  said  to  the 
tailor:  — 

"Go,  go!  Only  don't  lose  yourself,  and  cer- 
tainly try  to  find  the  shears." 

The  little  tailor  pulled  his  large  cap  down 
still  more,  and  ran  away  in  the  freezing  wind. 
And  through  the  howl  of  the  wind  we  heard 
again  his  happy  voice:  — 

"Be  sure  I  will  find  the  shears!" 

Silence  fell  around  the  fire.  The  big  wood 
burned  cheerfully.  We  no  longer  felt  the  ter- 
rible cold.  How  changed  were  all  these  men ! 
All  those  black  faces  were  now  light,  and  a 
260 


OUR  CHILD 


smile  on  each  one.  At  this  moment  they  had 
forgotten  the  terrible  present,  and  in  looking 
over  the  fire  and  their  gifts  with  tender,  shin- 
ing eyes  at  the  little  child,  they  had  seen  their 
past,  their  happy  past.  Little  Rada  still  slept. 
He  was  content  for  the  first  time  in  a  long 
while,  because  he  fell  asleep  knowing  that  he 
was  surrounded  by  the  hearts  of  forty  fathers 
and  as  many  brothers,  all  full  of  love. 

"Hae-e-e!  Second  company!"  soimded  a 
voice  in  the  darkness. 

"Here,  here! "  replied  my  soldiers. 

After  a  little  while  a  soldier  appeared,  muf- 
fled in  a  hood  which  looked  like  a  horn  above 
his  face.  His  horse  followed  him,  its  panting 
breath  falling  to  the  ground  like  red  steam. 

"Lieutenant,  here  is  an  order  from  the 
Colonel.  Ooli!  dog's  weather!"  I  took  the 
order  and  he  squatted  before  the  fire  and 
spread  his  big  hands  before  it. 

The  order  was  short.  "Gathering  of  bat- 
talion at  five  o'clock.  Movement  of  regi- 
ment immediately  after.  Direction,  village 
of  Boshniak.  Once  more  is  asked  of  you 
that,  etc.,  etc." 

261 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


Cheda  pulled  my  sleeve  and  said  to  me 
slowly :  — 

"I  did  not  tell  you.  To-morrow  we  shall 
have  an  assault.  Many  armies  are  gathered 
here  now.  The  whole  division  of  Shoomadia, 
the  defense  of  Belgrade,  the  corps  of  Val- 
andov,  and  many  other  regiments.  To-mor- 
row, that  is  to  say,  to-day,  we  shall  attack  the 
right  wing  of  the  Bulgarians  so  that  the  left 
wing  will  have  to  retreat  from  Lebana.  It  is 
the  only  way  to  save  the  place,  the  pass,  and 
so  all  the  people.  Hae!  If  only  the  division 
of  Shoomadia  had  come  ten  hours  earlier, 
perhaps  we  could  still  have  held  Dobra- 
Glava  —  and  certainly  Lebana.  But  when 
they  saw  that  they  could  not  come  with  their 
infantry,  they  sent  their  artillery  in  a  terrible 
rush  yesterday  ..." 

"Those  cannon  which  saved  us  yester- 
day.''" I  interrupted. 

"Yes.  Oh,  you  don't  know  anything?  You 
did  not  know  that  the  King  himself  was  shoot- 
ing those  cannon. f*" 

"The  King!"  cried  the  soldiers. 

"Yes.  When  he  heard  of  our  peril,  he 
262 


OUR  CHILD 


hastened  from  Prokuple,  waited  for  the  can- 
non and  took  them  himself  to  the  positions. 
He,  himself,  shot  one  of  them.  You  have  seen 
for  yourself  how  dreadful  it  was  there!  All 
the  cannon  of  the  Bulgarians  were  directed  to 
these  eight  of  ours.  The  men  were  killed  in 
piles  around  them." 

"And  the  King  was  still  there .'^"  exclaimed 
a  soldier. 

"Yes." 

"Poor  cheecha!  What!  He  wished  to  be 
killed.'^"  asked  another  voice. 

"No  wonder!"  replied  Cheda  slowly. 


Thus  we  got  our  child. 

The  Fifteenth  Regiment  had  the  Fourth 
Battalion,  the  Fourth  Battalion  had  the  Sec- 
ond Company,  the  Second  Company  had  the 
komora,  the  komora  had  Julock;  he  had  four 
horses,  and  among  them  was  Beeja.  He  was 
not  an  ordinary  horse!  He  was  small,  thick, 
with  slender  legs  and  a  beautiful  head !  Black 
with  a  white  star  in  his  forehead,  he  had  been 
the  property  of  Julock  and  had  lived  in  his 
263 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


house  with  his  children  as  a  member  of  the 
family.  When  the  war  came  the  Government 
took  Beeja,  by  requisition,  to  its  service.  By 
a  strange  chance  he  was  sent  to  the  Fifteenth 
Regiment,  and  my  colonel,  liking  Julock, 
gave  Beeja  to  him.  Beeja  was  very  sad  from 
the  first,  because  he  loved  Julock's  children 
and  the  separation  was  hard  for  him.  But 
finding  that  he  was  near  his  master  and  that 
he  helped  him,  he  made  peace  with  his  des- 
tiny. He  carried  his  heavy  burden  quietly 
and  patiently.  We  all  liked  him.  Often  I 
petted  him  and  gave  him  sugar  when  I  had 
it.  After  Lescovatz,  where  my  company  had 
lost  many  things,  I  gave  orders  not  to  load 
him  any  more,  thinking  that  this  would  be 
much  easier  for  him.  But  I  was  mistaken. 
He  was  very  sensitive  and  easily  hurt.  When 
he  saw  that  he  went  free,  he  thought  that  he 
was  useless,  that  no  one  loved  him  any  more, 
and  became  very  downcast.  He  ate  nothing; 
his  round  stomach  grew  flat;  the  big  bones 
showed  on  his  sides ;  he  permitted  his  tail  and 
mane  to  be  filled  with  burdock  burrs,  and 
went  along  with  his  nose  to  the  ground. 
264 


OUR  CHILD 


It  was  wonderful  to  see  him,  when  little 
Rada  got  on  his  back  the  first  time.  Beeja 
had  a  good  memory  and  he  foolishly  loved  his 
happy  past,  even  as  we  did.  Feeling  Rada  on 
his  back,  he  thought  that  he  was  one  of  his 
little  friends.  Oh,  how  proud  he  was!  How 
high  he  held  his  beautiful  head,  and  what 
graceful  little  steps  he  made !  And  later,  when 
he  saw  how  much  Julock  and  all  the  rest  of  us 
loved  Rada,  he  was  quite  sure  that  Rada  was 
one  of  his  good  little  friends,  and  from  this 
time  he,  too,  loved  Rada.  When  he  saw  that 
he  was  useful,  he  began  to  eat  again.  Not  only 
did  he  eat  what  was  given  him,  but  he  pulled 
down  the  small  branches,  and  even  ate  the 
thistles.  Rada  and  he  became  the  best  of 
friends.  They  never  parted.  They  slept  to- 
gether, for  Beeja  was  so  warm!  Rada  loved 
Beeja  as  well  as  his  own  eyes!  He  petted  him, 
pulled  his  ears,  kissed  his  nose,  talked  to  him 
unceasingly,  patted  his  neck,  and  patiently 
picked  out  the  burrs  from  his  mane  and  tail. 
And  so  both  of  them  were  happy. 

We  had  no  opportunity  to  see  Rada  for 
three  days;  we  were  fighting  almost  continu- 
265 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


ously.  After  fierce  and  terrible  fighting  for 
two  days,  the  right  wing  of  the  Bulgarians  was 
smashed  entirely.  We  saw,  the  afternoon  of 
the  second  day,  their  left  wing  in  disordered 
flight  through  the  valley  of  Yablanitza  from 
Lebana.  The  third  day  my  division  had  to 
hold  new  positions,  while  all  the  other  divi- 
sions were  retreating  over  the  pass  of  Lebana. 
And  that  night  we  passed  over  too. 

How  impatiently  we  waited  for  Julock  to 
bring  little  Rada!  And  finally,  when  Julock 
appeared  in  the  darkness,  limping  and  lead- 
ing Beeja,  and  we  heard  the  happy  sound  of 
Rada's  "Good-evening,"  when  he  jumped  and 
ran  toward  us,  and  embraced  us,  we  trembled. 
Then  we  knew  how  much  we  loved  this  child. 
And  these  rough  hearts,  which  were  stout  in 
the  most  dreadful  scenes,  now  weakened;  and 
the  eyes  of  these  men  who  never  wept  now 
filled  with  tears. 

We  could  now  see  how  beautiful  a  child 
little  Rada  was !  The  new  suit  fitted  him  like 
a  glove.  A  real  little  soldier !  To  tell  the  truth, 
the  cap  of  that  glavonya  was  too  large  for  him, 
but  it  was  better  so  because  of  the  cold  and 
266 


OUR  CHILD 


wind.  Julock  had  found  a  way  to  bathe  him 
and  had  even  cut  his  hair.  Instead  of  dirt  and 
tears,  fair  white  skin  and  rosy  cheeks  showed. 
From  his  little  red  lips  a  stream  of  honey- 
sweet  words  flowed  without  stopping,  and  his 
lovely  eyes  glittered  like  two  little  stars !  Yes, 
our  dear  stars!  The  little  stars  of  our  great 
happiness ! 

Little  Rada  went  from  one  to  another; 
everybody  petted,  kissed,  and  embraced  him, 
and  he  spoke  to  everybody  with  his  cheerful 
little  voice.  He  was  quite  changed.  He  was  no 
longer  a  serious,  unhappy  human  being,  aged 
before  his  time,  no  longer  a  miserable  little 
man,  bent  under  a  terrible  burden  of  a  thou- 
sand pains,  but  again  a  happy  little  child. 
Seeing  around  him  these  good  fathers  and 
many  tender  brothers,  who  had  stayed  his 
bitter  tears  and  lifted  the  heavy  burdens  from 
his  little  shoulders,  he  again  became  a  joyful 
little  bird,  always  singing  and  always  giving 
the  great  love  of  his  little  heart  to  all  of  us. 

And  we  older  ones,  how  changed  we  were! 
About  this  I  will  not  speak.  Everybody  who 
is  a  father,  or  who  has  a  little  brother,  will 
267 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


know  what  this  child  had  done  for  us.  And 
each  of  us  was  either  a  father  or  a  brother, 
each  was  a  Serbian,  and  this  Was  a  Serbian 
child! 

Thus  passed  these  happy  days. 

My  regiment  was  again  the  rear  one.  We 
had  again  constantly  to  defend  the  retreat. 
We  were  fighting  from  day  to  day.  During 
the  day  we  fought;  one  part  of  the  night  we 
retreated;  the  other  part  we  rested,  if  such  a 
time  can  be  called  rest.  Before  the  dawn  we 
went  to  the  new  positions,  and  the  next  day 
fought  again.  The  fighting  was  dreadful,  — 
very,  very  bloody;  but  now  we  did  not  feel 
this  so  bitterly,  for  we  knew  that  after  the 
battle  little  Rada  would  be  waiting  for  us. 
His  smile,  his  words,  his  love,  his  little  starry 
eyes  would  cheer  and  comfort  us.  We  fought 
with  an  almost  superhuman  power,  defend- 
ing our  child.  He  was  a  symbol  for  us.  The 
future  of  Serbia,  happiness,  which  we  had 
to  defend,  and  for  which  it  was  so  sweet  to 
die! 

I  will  never  forget  those  nights  when  we 
were  with  Rada.   How  this  diamond  shone  in 
268 


OUR  CHILD 


the  darkness !  And  under  his  radiance  how  we 
changed !  The  bloody  hands  were  washed,  the 
black  faces  would  brighten  under  the  touch 
of  his  little  hand,  and  the  eyes  lighten  under 
the  gleam  of  his  little  stars.  Very  often,  when 
we  had  corn,  we  made  popcorn  to  the  great 
joy  of  little  Rada,  or  we  would  make  tea 
which  he  loved  very  much,  and  drinking  the 
tea,  or  with  a  mouth  full  of  popcorn,  he  would 
tell  us  about  his  Beeja,  about  the  great  suc- 
cess in  making  whistles  along  the  way,  about 
the  very,  very  good  beans  which  Julock 
cooked,  about  the  road,  about  the  brooks, 
about  the  snow  and  how  many  of  his  pic- 
tures he  made  by  lying  in  it,  about  the  vil- 
lages, about  the  friends,  and  a  hundred  other 
things. 

Then  we  were  so  happy !  In  these  moments 
we  forgot  our  dreadful  present  pain,  unhap- 
piness,  weariness,  cold,  snow,  blood,  and 
murders;  and  looking  on  this  Serbian  child 
we  thought  of  our  future,  about  the  new, 
bright,  magnificent  future  of  Serbia!  And  in 
those  nights  the  words  of  Evariste  Gamlin 
often  came  to  my  mind:  "It  is  nothing  that 
269 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


blood  is  now  flowing;  it  is  nothing  that  we  are 
now  dying,  for  you,  my  little  one,  you  will 
live  in  a  happy  future,  in  a  golden  liberty!"  * 


But  there  were  terrible  moments  which 
were  still  more  terrible  because  of  little  Rada. 

One  day  we  were  surrounded  —  surrounded 
on  all  sides.  That  day  we  were  at  the  position 
of  Sweertzee,  just  at  the  old  Serbian-Turkish 
border.  The  positions  were  very  unfortunate 
for  us.  There  was  a  plateau  which  was  hollow 
in  the  middle,  like  a  saddle  upside  down.  At 
one  end  of  the  plateau  was  the  old  Serbian 
karaoola,^  and  on  the  other  end  was  the  Turk- 
ish tower.  At  the  left  side  of  the  plateau  there 
were  two  ranges  of  high,  sharp  hills.  One  of 
them  extended  for  two  miles  from  the  Serbian 
tower,  and  the  other  for  three  miles  from  the 
Turkish  tower.  Between  these  ranges  was  a 
very  deep,  dark  valley.  And  all  the  hills  were 
covered  with  old  forests  and  big  trees;  and 
everywhere  the  canon  was  cut  by  brooks. 
The  snow  was  deep,  up  to  the  knees.  My  regi- 

*  A.  France,  Les  Dieux  out  soif.  *  Watch-tower. 

870 


OUR  CHILD 


ment  took  the  positions  along  the  first  range 
which  extended  from  the  Serbian  tower.  The 
Bulgarians  attacked  us  before  light,  early  in  the 
morning.  I  could  see  that  they  were  in  a  great 
hurry,  because  they  wanted  to  finish,  finally, 
my  regiment  which,  even  though  we  had  no 
artillery  and  insufficient  ammunition,  had  al- 
ways imposed  upon  them  such  serious  and 
great  losses,  and  always  knew  how  to  escape. 
In  the  beginning  I  was  with  my  company  in 
the  regiment's  reserve  placed  in  the  valley 
between  the  two  towers.  I  had  to  stand  at 
one  place  in  the  snow  up  to  my  waist,  where 
the  wind  swept  over.  Not  a  pleasant  job !  But, 
thank  God,  this  pleasure  was  not  for  a  long 
time.  At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  got 
an  order  to  go  to  the  end  of  the  second  range, 
which  extended  from  the  Turkish  tower,  for 
my  colonel  feared  that,  in  spite  of  the  dis- 
tance and  difficulty,  the  Bulgarians  might 
creep  up  to  this  range,  cross  it,  and  reach  the 
plateau,  and  thus  surround  the  whole  regi- 
ment. I  was  reinforced  by  an  officer  and  two 
platoons.  We  started  at  once,  glad  to  warm 
ourselves. 

871 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


I  saw  right  away  how  far  I  was  from  my 
regiment  and  how  dangerous  my  duty  was. 
The  position  was  dreadful!  At  the  very  end 
of  the  range  were  two  peaks,  separated  by  a 
valley.  On  the  first  I  left  the  officer.  Sergeant 
Trailo,  three  platoons,  and  my  orders.  I  went 
to  the  other,  with  Cheda  and  the  other  three 
platoons.  There  were  great  forests  every- 
where; everywhere  were  the  long,  steep  slopes, 
on  which  I  could  see  but  a  little  distance  be- 
cause of  immense  trees.  The  snow  was  very 
deep.  What  could  I  do  here  with  a  handful  of 
men  .5*  How  could  I  watch  successfully  such 
a  great  territory.?  But  I  did  the  best  I  knew. 
Behind  us  was  a  deep  brook  and  quite  a  prec- 
ipice with  very  steep  sides.  I  reasoned  that 
I  was  safe  on  this  side,  and  so  I  sent  the  sen- 
tinels forward,  and  to  the  right  and  left  sides 
of  the  hill. 

The  battle  was  raging  on  the  other  side  on 
the  first  range.  At  first  I  was  not  attacked. 
I  did  not  order  trenches  to  be  dug:  first,  be- 
cause I  had  no  time;  secondly,  it  was  quite 
impossible  because  of  the  deep  snow;  and 
finally,  there  were  so  many  big  trees  that 
272 


OUR  CHILD 


every  one  could  find  a  shelter.  The  hours 
passed  and  nothing  happened.  There  was  a 
deep  silence,  the  silence  of  a  tomb,  and  only 
the  trees  crackled  from  the  frost.  The  sol- 
diers were  standing  behind  the  trees  silent, 
their  feet  freezing.  Suddenly  a  soldier  ran 
out,  breathless,  and  exclaimed :  — 

"  The  Bulgarians  are  coming  from  the  left ! " 

He  had  not  finished  when  another  ran  out. 

"The  Bulgarians  are  advancing  along  the 
brook  behind  us!" 

A  third  man  screamed  from  afar  as  if  in- 
sane: — 

*' There  they  are  at  the  right!" 

Beautiful  situation! 

I  understood  it  instantly.  They  wanted  to 
cut  us  off  on  this  hill,  repulse  the  others  on 
the  other  hill,  hold  the  range,  and  so  come  to 
the  plateau. 

They  half  succeeded.  I  felt  that  my  whole 
body  trembled.  The  horror  clutched  our 
hearts,  and  the  dreadfulness  showed  upon  our 
faces.  Oh,  why  are  our  hearts  not  made  of 
steel,  why  do  we  have  brains,  why  are  we 
men.^  But  all  this  was  but  for  a  moment.  The 
273 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


next  minute  I  recovered  my  coolness  and  called 
a  soldier:  — 

"Run  to  Trailo,  if  it  is  possible,  and  tell 
him  to  retreat  slowly  to  the  first  good  posi- 
tion. Then  he  must  report  at  once  to  the  colo- 
nel, asking  help  in  order  to  save  the  towers. 
Absolutely,  he  must  not  try  to  defend  us,  be- 
cause then  all  would  be  lost.  Do  you  under- 
stand? Go,  run  as  fast  as  you  can!" 

The  soldier  ran.  Then  I  ordered  all  sen- 
tinels to  the  top  of  the  hill.  I  looked  around 
me.  I  could  see  no  farther  than  a  hundred 
yards  because  of  the  tree-trunks.  But  one 
could  hear,  could  feel  everywhere  around,  a 
dull,  hidden  noise  which  came  closer  and  closer. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  I  saw  behind  every  tree 
the  scowling,  ugly,  dreadful  faces  of  those 
beasts,  whose  sly,  devilish  laughter  echoed 
through  the  forest. 

With  resolute  looks  and  expanded  breasts 
my  soldiers  stood  before  me;  at  one  glance 
I  understood  these  true  friends,  these  tried 
warriors,  these  undaunted  lions.  Then  I  felt 
such  an  unspeakable  rage  toward  these,  who, 
not  two  years  ago,  had  begged  us  for  help,  and 
274 


OUR  CHILD 


who  now  were  creeping  upon  us  from  the 
depths  and  darkness  of  the  forest,  that  I 
cried :  — 

"To  the  last  man!'* 

"To  the  last ! "  replied  my  faithful  Cheda,  in 
a  firm  voice. 

All  the  others  looked  straight  in  my  eyes. 
They  were  ready. 

I  divided  my  men  on  four  sides  and  every 
one  chose  his  tree.  A  moment  after  the  shots 
echoed  rapidly  from  the  right  side.  The  bul- 
lets flew  over  our  heads  with  the  shrill  sound 
of  a  furious  woman,  or  they  struck  against 
the  branches,  which  broke  and  fell  upon  the 
white  snow.  Then  shots  at  the  left,  before  us, 
and  then  from  all  sides.  The  broken  branches 
fell  like  rain.  Finally,  wriggling  like  worms, 
hiding  behind  the  trees,  the  black,  devilish 
figures  appeared. 

"Fire!"  I  shouted. 

And  then  this  hill  became  a  little  volcano, 
which  began  to  crush  its  mortal  prey.  The 
black  figures  disappeared  behind  the  thick 
trees.  When  they  appeared  again,  the  volcano 
again  belched  its  dreadful  fire.  "Ha,  cruel 
275 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


men,  the  volcano  is  too  much  alive  and  will 
sell  its  crater  very  expensively."  There  was 
boiling  and  bubbling,  as  in  hell,  around  this 
hill. 

After  a  time  the  Bulgarians  saw  that  it  was 
a  very  costly  thing  to  climb  to  the  top  at  once 
in  glorious  victory.  And  they  contented 
themselves  to  do  this  later  in  a  different  way. 
I  understood  them.  They  wanted  to  force  us 
to  use  up  all  our  ammunition,  and  then: 
"Hands  up,  bratko!" 

This  was  dignified  for  them !  This  was  quite 
on  a  level  with  these  beasts.  And  these 
sneaking  wolves  loved  this  cat's  play!  I  felt 
a  tremendous  bitterness  in  my  breast;  I 
wanted  to  jump  from  my  own  skin;  I  bit  my 
lips;  my  clothes  burned  my  flesh;  my  mouth 
was  dry,  and  I  stooped,  grasped  a  handful  of 
snow,  and  put  it  into  my  mouth. 

The  Bulgarians  now  attacked  the  second 
hill  with  all  their  power,  leaving  us  in  their 
dreadful  trap.  The  fighting  raged  there  for 
some  time,  then  began  to  grow  more  and  more 
distant,  until,  at  last,  we  were  alone. 

Suddenly,  as  if  some  one  struck  me  on  the 
276 


OUR  CHILD 


head,  my  hair  rose,  my  heart  stopped.  I  lost 
my  breath,  and  I  felt  as  if  I  should  fall.  The 
picture  of  little  Rada  came  before  my  eyes. 
Oh,  my  dear  little  child!  What!  Not  to  see 
you  any  more?  Not  to  see  your  beautiful 
eyes  again?  Our  dear  little  stars!  Not  to  hear 
again  your  sweet  voice?  What!  Not  to  feel 
again  your  warm  embrace,  your  little  heart? 
And  you?  What  will  happen  to  you  without 
us?  What !  Again  shall  you  be  hungry,  naked, 
barefooted,  again  to  go  alone,  to  die  on  the 
road?  No,  no!  Fly  away  dreadful  thoughts,  or 
I  shall  be  insane,  insane  .  .  . 

A  creature  crept  to  me.  The  face  was 
black,  the  eyes  were  staring,  the  mouth  was 
open,  gasping  for  breath,  and  the  hands  were 
outstretched  as  though  to  repulse  something 
dreadful.  It  was  Cheda  with  the  same 
thoughts.  And  this  steely,  cold  man  shiv- 
ered like  a  small  branch.  From  the  depths 
of  his  breast  came  a  painful  exclamation :  — 

"Not  to  see  him  any  more!  '* 

Oh,  my  poor  Cheda!  Look  around  you. 
Why  do  you  ask  from  me  this  terrible  an- 
swer? 

277 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


Suddenly  he  jumped  to  his  feet,  seized  my 
shoulders  with  both  hands  and  shook  me 
fiercely.  He  tried  to  speak,  to  tell  me  some- 
thing, but  only  painful,  husky  sounds  came 
from  his  throat.  Insane!  flashed  through  my 
head.  God,  what  to  do?  Without  realizing 
what  I  was  doing  I  picked  up  a  handful  of 
snow  and  thrust  it  against  his  face,  crying :  — 

"Cheda,  Cheda,  for  Heaven's  sake,  what 
is  it?" 

His  face  quivered  and  the  words  came:  — 

*' Impossible,  impossible,  not  to  see  him 
again !  Do  you  hear  me?  It  is  impossible  I  We 
must  see  him  .  .  .  He  must  be  with  us  .  .  . 
He  must  not  die!  We  have  to  save  ourselves 
...  we  have,  we  have  .  .  .  ** 

I  worked  a  long  time  to  calm  him.  Some- 
times the  most  powerful  man  will  have  mo- 
ments when  he  grows  weak.  Those  moments 
for  Cheda  were  now.  When  they  passed,  he 
became  again  the  strong  little  man  who  could 
overcome  almost  incredible  hindrances.  Then 
I  said  to  him :  —  « 

"If  we  could  only  hold  out  until  the 
night." 

278 


OUR  CHILD 


"Impossible!"  Cheda  replied  slowly.  "The 
soldiers  have  only  a  hundred  bullets  apiece. 
And  what  is  that?  Nothing.  One  hour  of 
time." 

"But  we  have  to  do  something  T^  I  ex- 
claimed in  a  resolute  voice. 

"We  must!"  he  replied  firmly.  After,  he 
added  slowly  and  sorrowfully:  "But  what  .J* 
What?" 

We  were  sitting  beside  each  other  making 
foolish,  impracticable  plans  when  he  leaped 
to  his  feet  and  cried  in  an  excited  voice, 
pointing  into  the  distance:  — 

"Fog!  Do  you  see  it?" 

The  tears  flew  to  my  eyes.  O  God,  I  thank 
Thee !  In  the  distance,  over  a  great  mountain, 
rolled  the  fog  like  a  gigantic  river,  which 
moved  toward  our  hill. 

"It  is  much  better  than  the  night!"  ex- 
claimed Cheda  in  a  transport  of  gladness,  and 
went  to  the  soldiers.  He  crept  from  one  to 
another,  quickly  telling  something  to  each 
one.  I  left  this  old  warrior,  this  wonderful, 
powerful  man  to  act,  feeling  that  only  he  could 
save  us.  And  in  myself  I  felt  such  a  power, 
279 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


such  a  desire  for  life,  such  love,  that  I  wished 
to  embrace  this  whole  nature,  to  embrace  the 
unseen  God  who  creates  these  wonders !  The 
battle  began  to  rage  more  and  more  fiercely. 

Shortly  after,  Cheda  again  crept  to  me :  — 

"All  is  ready.  As  soon  as  the  fog  comes,  and 
I  think  it  will  come  very  soon,  we  will  run 
down  to  the  brook  behind  us  .  .  ." 

"But  this  is  a  precipice!"  I  interrupted 
Cheda. 

"There  can  be  no  precipices  now.  We  must 
go,  we  must  fly  over,  if  necessary.  When  the 
fog  comes,  we  will  run  down  making  our  way 
with  bombs.  In  order  to  confuse  the  Bulga- 
rians on  the  other  sides,  Atsa,  Jare,  Kale,  and 
your  Meeloye  will  remain  here,  shooting  con- 
tinually. When  they  hear  our  bombs,  they 
will  throw  theirs  also,  that  the  Bulgarians 
may  think  that  we  are  fighting  on  all  sides. 
Do  you  think  so  too?" 

"It  is  good.  But  what  will  those  who  re- 
main do?" 

"Somebody  has  to  be  sacrificed,"  said 
Cheda. 

Then  we  both  went  to  the  soldiers  explain- 
S80 


OUR  CHILD 


ing  to  them  what  they  were  to  do.  The  Bul- 
garians had  formed  a  cruel  ring  nearly  around 
us.  A  great  wave  of  impatience  surged  through 
my  body,  as  if  I  already  felt  their  hot  breath 
and  heard  their  rough  laughter. 

Like  a  rushing  flood  the  heavy,  icy  fog 
quickly  enveloped  the  whole  hill.  The  Bul- 
garians, who  had  not  seen  the  fog  coming, 
were  now  so  astonished  that  their  guns 
stopped  for  a  short  time.  The  soldiers  came 
noiseless  as  shadows  to  Cheda  and  me.  The 
four  guns  on  the  four  sides  were  shooting  like 
twenty. 

"All.'*"  I  asked  the  soldiers  in  a  low  voice. 

"Yes!" 

"Have  you  unscrewed  your  bombs?" 

"Yes!" 

"In  one  line,  and  forward!" 

Cheda  was  beside  me.  He  looked  at  nie. 
Oh,  this  look!  Never  can  words  say  such  a 
farewell !  Pck  !  as  he  struck  the  cap  of  his 
bomb  against  a  stone.  The  bomb  was  lit. 
Then  he  swung  it  round  and  round,  saying: 
"Now,  my  'black  friend,'  make  the  way!" 
And  the  black  friend  flew  far,  far. 
981 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


We  did  the  same.  The  little  volcano  crashed 
its  last  terrible  fire  .  .  .  Then  .  .  .  How  can 
I  tell  jou  this,  which  I  myself  cannot  tell. 

Torn,  bloody,  and  exhausted,  we  sought 
long  into  the  night  our  regiment.  We  did  not 
know  where  it  had  retreated  or  what  had  hap- 
pened to  it.  Finally,  after  midnight,  we  saw 
hundreds  and  hundreds  of  fires.  It  was  my 
division.  After  half  an  hour  of  looking  and 
asking,  we  found  my  company  at  last.  Dark 
shadows  sat  around  their  big  fires.  Before 
one  of  them  I  saw  little  Rada.  Bent,  with  his 
head  in  his  hands,  I  recognized  again  the  lit- 
tle sad  man  loaded  again  with  the  old  heavy 
burden.  My  heart  just  wanted  to  jump  out 
from  my  breast.  Cheda  and  I  ran  and  fell  be- 
side him,  one  on  each  side  .  .  .  There  are  no 
words  to  describe  our  happiness!  Oh!  How 
he  embraced  us,  how  he  kissed  us!  And 
through  his  happy  tears  he  spoke:  — 

"My  nana  always  told  me  that  I  should 
say  prayers  to  God's  mother  and  she  will 
help  me.  I  said  prayers  all  the  day  long  for 
you!" 

«        *        :)e 

282 


OUR  CHILD 


"Apples?"  said  Trailo,  very  much  sur- 
prised. 

"Yes,  apples!  If  you  bring  apples  to  me, 
I  will  kiss  you,"  replied  little  Rada,  laugh- 
ing. 

I  have  told  that  Trailo  was  a  very  strange 
man.  Rough,  unintelligent,  quite  wild,  the 
discipline  of  many  years  had  made  a  solid 
stone,  a  good  machine.  Unfortunately  this 
stone  was  not  without  a  heart.  At  first,  when 
Rada's  love  could  not  pierce  his  armor,  he  did 
not  want  to  see  the  child.  He  never  spoke  to 
him,  and  when  he  had  to  speak  to  him,  he 
did  so  as  over  an  axe.  He  had  often  asked :  — • 

"How  is  it  possible  that  there  can  be  a  child 
in  a  disciplined  company.''" 

But  later,  when  he  saw  how  the  rest  of  us 
loved  our  child,  and  cared  for  him,  he  began 
to  think.  And  still  later,  when  he  saw  what  a 
golden  child  little  Rada  was,  how  good  and 
joyful  he  always  was,  when  he,  at  last,  found 
out  that  he  was  the  only  element  of  happi- 
ness for  us,  he  began  to  love  him  too.  Trailo 
went  from  one  extreme  to  the  other  and  be- 
came crazy  about  little  Rada.  But  too  late. 
283 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


Now  Rada  did  not  want  to  see  him.  Poor 
Trailo!  What  was  there  in  the  world  that  he 
did  not  do  to  please  the  child?  He  made  him 
popguns  and  whistles,  he  gave  his  watch  and 
his  small  gun  to  him,  he  sang  to  him,  and  told 
funny  stories,  he  carried  him  on  his  shoulders, 
he  lifted  him  twenty  times  in  the  air,  and  three 
hundred  other  wonderful  things  he  did  for 
him.  But  in  vain!  Dear  child!  Rada  loved 
him;  he  told  this  to  every  one  of  us,  but  he 
did  n't  want  to  tell  him.  This  was  Rada's 
caprice.  A  childish  joy!  A  new  source  for 
jokes  and  laughter.  But  as  Trailo  could  not 
understand  this  he  had  the  pain  of  Tantalus. 

Rada  was  very  fond  of  apples.  They  were 
his  weak  point.  You  could  do  anything  with 
him  if  you  gave  him  apples.  This  night,  he 
had  said  to  Trailo  that  his  kiss  cost  ten  ap- 
ples! There  was  much  laughter!  But  Trailo 
took  the  matter  very  seriously.  Apples! 
Where  could  they  be  found  now.''  Because  of 
that  he  asked  angrily :  — 

"Do  you  really  want  apples.''** 

"Ten  of  them!"    Little  Rada  made  this 
serious  statement  from  Cheda's  lap. 
284 


OUR  CHILD 


Trailo  sighed,  got  up,  and  said  to  me:  — 

"I  beg  you.  Lieutenant,  let  me  go.  I 
promise  to  be  back  before  we  go  to  position." 

And  not  waiting  for  my  answer  he  ran  into 
the  darkness.  I  became  very  sorrowful.  We 
were  in  the  midst  of  the  Albanians,  who  used 
every  occasion  for  their  wild  vengeance. 
Whenever  they  found  a  soldier  alone,  or  a 
small  group  of  them,  they  killed  without 
mercy.  Knowing  this  I  began  to  reproach 
little  Rada,  who  grew  serious  and  then  began 
to  weep.  Cheda  was  angry  with  me. 

"Why  do  you  reproach  the  child. '^  That 
crazy  old  man  ought  to  know  what  he  is  do- 
mg. 

The  next  day  the  fighting  began,  but  Trailo 
had  not  come.  I  was  very,  very  anxious. 
What  if  he  had  been  killed  by  the  Albanians? 
It  would  be  terrible,  for  Trailo  was  truly  a 
hero  who  always  wished  to  be  killed  in  a  hand- 
to-hand  fight.  And  yet,  I  felt  a  satisfaction. 
For  if  this  wild  and  seemingly  heartless  man 
loved  this  child  so  much  that  he  was  willing 
to  sacrifice  his  life  for  its  pleasure,  how  much 
more  would  these  men,  who  loved  Rada,  do, 
285 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


not  only  for  him,  but  for  Serbia,  its  children 
and  its  future. 

That  day  the  fighting  was  very  good  for  us, 
and  the  positions  excellent.  We  were  on  a 
hill,  covered  with  small  thick  woods.  Before 
us  was  the  bare  valley,  through  which  the 
Bulgarians  had  to  pass.  They  had  scarcely 
succeeded  in  passing  half  of  it,  when  we 
nailed  them  with  our  fire.  They  had  scarcely 
time  to  dig  miserable  little  trenches  in  which 
to  hide  their  heads;  and  even  this  was  done  at 
a  great  cost  of  their  lives.  Then,  in  their  rage 
and  powerlessness  they  began  to  shoot  with 
"dum-dum"^  bullets,  which,  striking  against 
the  small  stones  around  us,  had  exploded  and 
filled  our  eyes  with  dust,  earth,  and  stinging 
smoke;  or  they  smashed  our  gun-stocks,  gun- 
barrels,  and  heads  .  .  . 

"Hae!  Hae!  Are  you  there?"  exclaimed  a 
Joyful  voice  behind  us. 

I  turned  my  head.  Trailo  was  standing 
there,  red,  smiling,  with  both  hands  lifted,  in 
one  of  which  he  held  a  full  knapsack.  He  was 
wild  with  joy. 

^  Explosive  bullets. 
286 


OUR  CHILD 


"Look!  Full  knapsack!  I  ran  all  night . .  .'* 

**Lie  down!"  I  shouted  in  terror. 

He  did  n't  hear  me,  but  kept  on  talking. 

"Fourteen  are  in  it.  Beautiful,  red!  I  felt 
three  hundred  pains  when  I  looked  for  them. 
I  paid  five  deenars  ^  to  those  animals  .  .  ." 

*'Lie  down,  when  I  tell  you!  Can  you  not 
see  that  they  are  shooting  with  dum-dum 
bullets.^" 

"Oo-h!  Breega  mene!  I  don't  care!  You 
know,  Lieutenant,  five  deenars!  But  really 
they  are  beautiful !  How  happy  little  Rada  will 
be!  How  he  will  lo  .  .  ." 

Suddenly  a  sound!  As  if  something  had 
struck  against  thin  dry  wood,  and  then,  a 
muffled  boom.  Trailo's  brains  spattered  me. 
For  an  instant  his  crushed  head  hovered  in 
the  air,  red  and  awful.  Then  it  flew  in  an  ap- 
palling circle  and  fell  into  the  trench.  The 
dead  hand  still  held  the  knapsack  of  apples. 

"Where  is  Trailo.''  Where  are  my  apples.'^'* 
asked  poor  Rada  when  Julock  brought  him  the 
next  night.  We  were  all  silent  with  bowed 
heads.    Rada  looked   upon   us  bewildered. 

*  Francs. 
287 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


Then  he  began  to  understand,  for  those 
scenes  had  often  occurred,  and  asked,  fright- 
ened :  — 

"WhereismyTrailo?" 

"Here  are  the  apples,"  said  Cheda  in  a 
low  tone. 

Now  Rada  quite  understood;  he  fell  in  my 
arms  and  began  to  cry  convulsively. 

"Oh,  I  know  all.  Every  time  I  ask  you  why 
somebody  does  not  come,  you  are  always 
silent  and  never  tell  me  anything.  But  I 
know  they  were  killed.  Oh!  Bogo-moi!  And 
bata  Atsa,  and  Keetsa,  and  cheeka  Meeloye, 
and  Marko  and  Glavonya,  and  bata  Kale,  and 
Geeka  and  all,  all  the  others  ...  I  know  that 
they  were  killed,  and  you  would  n't  tell  me 
anything,  but  are  always  silent.  And  now 
you  are  silent  when  I  ask  you  for  Trailo.  And 
he  is  killed  too !  He  was  killed  by  the  Alba- 
nians because  of  me,  because  of  my  apples.'* 

"Be  quiet,  Rada.  He  was  not  killed  by  the 
Albanians,  but  by  the  fighting,"  I  said  to  him, 
and  tried  to  quiet  his  great  pain. 

But  he  cried  still  more :  — 

"I  know  all;  he  was  killed  by  the  Albanians 


OUR  CHILD 


because  of  my  apples!  Oh,  kookoo-mene!  I 
will  not  eat  the  apples!  Never  will  I  eat 
them  .  .  ." 

It  was  a  long  time  before  he  grew  quiet  and 
went  to  sleep.  Yet  in  his  sleep  he  still  moaned 
and  slept  very  uneasily,  twitching  all  night. 

After  a  while  I  noticed  a  change  in  Rada 
which  caused  me  great  anxiety.  Even  though 
he  was  cheerful,  yet  it  was  not  quite  the  same. 
And  during  the  last  few  days  he  had  grown 
tired  very  quickly;  he  would  be  quiet  for  a 
long  time  and  wanted  to  be  in  Cheda's  or  my 
lap.  Then  he  would  go  to  sleep  very  quickly. 
And  sleeping  in  our  arms  we  felt  that  his  head 
was  hot.  Cheda  had  the  same  anxiety,  but  he 
did  not  dare  to  tell  me. 

This  night  his  head  was  burning  hot.  Cheda 
and  I  were  sitting  near  him  and  bending  over 
him.  We  were  silent  and  motionless.  Once 
Cheda  touched  his  forehead,  sighed  deeply, 
and  whispered :  — 

"He's  burning!  God!  If  he  grows  sick?" 

I  felt  a  dreadful  pain  in  my  heart,  yet  I 
kept  calm,  and  said  quietly  in  order  to  reas- 
sure Cheda: — 

289 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


*'0h,  it's  nothing!  It  is  only  from  to-day's 
emotion." 

Cheda  shook  his  head  doubtfully.  And  I 
myself  did  not  believe  what  I  said,  and  a  great 
terror  clutched  me.  The  soldiers  who  heard 
this  and  who  were  anxious,  too,  got  up  and 
were  gathering  around  Rada.  And  as  a  mother 
hovers  over  her  only  child,  fearing  it  is  sick, 
so  hovered  these  unhappy  soldiers  over  little 
Rada.  And  perhaps  no  mother  ever  asked 
with  greater  feeling,  than  the  lips  of  these  sol- 
diers had  whispered :  — 

"God!  Will  you  send  to  us  this  culmination 
of  unhappiness?" 


"I  implore,  I  implore  you,  Doctor,  to  save 
him!"  cried  out  Cheda  wringing  his  hands  in 
pitiful  distress. 

That  of  which  we  did  not  dare  to  think, 
that  of  which  we  had  the  most  terror,  now 
came.   Little  Rada  grew  terribly  sick! 

We  had  not  seen  Rada  for  two  days  after 
the  night  when  Trailo  was  killed,  for  all 
komora  went  to  Preestina.  During  this  time 
290 


1 


OUR  CHILD 


we  were  very  anxious,  for  when  we  parted 
from  Rada,  we  saw  that  he  was  changed,  in 
spite  of  all  his  efforts  to  be  gay  and  to  make 
jokes  as  usual.  We  saw  how  great  an  effort 
he  made  to  do  this.  And  when  he  got  on  the 
back  of  his  Beeja,  and  said,  "God  help  you! 
I  will  see  you  again!"  his  voice  was  so  sad  and 
so  weak.  And  finally,  during  all  this  time,  we 
felt  that  he  was  sick,  as  we  would  feel  if  one 
part  of  our  being  was  sick,  for  Rada  was  bound 
to  our  hearts,  mingled  with  our  whole  life. 
Black,  dark,  sorrowful  thoughts  were  with  us 
during  all  this  time. 

And  this  night  when  we  came  behind  Prees- 
tina,  after  the  last  battle  which  my  regiment 
had,  what  terrible  moments  we  had  waiting 
for  Rada.  At  last  Julock  came,  carrying  Rada 
in  his  arms,  and  Beeja  followed  them  with 
drooping  head. 

"In  God's  name,  what  is  it?"  I  exclaimed, 
and  jumped  up  when  I  saw  them  coming. 

Julock  was  silent. 

"  So  help  me  God,  it  is  nothing ! "  said  Rada, 
raising  his  head  from  Julock's  arm.    "It  is 
nothing.   Cheeka  Julock  always  thinks  I  am 
291 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


very  sick,  but  I  only  have  a  little  sore  throat. 
To-morrow  I  will  be  all  well.  I  am  well  now. 
Here,  you  can  see  .  .  .**  And  he  slid  down 
from  Julock's  arms  and  ran  to  Cheda. 

Then  Rada  shook  hands  with  everybody, 
embraced  everybody,  and  talked  to  all,  as 
usual;  but  soon  he  lost  his  strength  and  came 
to  Cheda's  lap,  laying  his  head  wearily  against 
his  breast.  He  grew  very  weak  and  sank  in 
Cheda's  arms.  I  saw  how  rapidly  his  little 
breast  rose  and  fell. 

"God,  how  he  is  burning!  The  child  has 
fever!"  cried  Cheda. 

And  there  was  night,  cold  wind,  desert,  icy 
stones  everywhere  around,  and  no  help  from 
anywhere!  All  night  the  soldiers  ran  to  find 
the  regiment's  doctor,  but  in  vain.  All  night 
Rada  did  not  sleep.  All  night  we  listened  with 
aching  hearts  to  Rada's  moans.  Day  came 
and  we  had  to  start.  We  wanted  to  carry 
him,  but  he  did  not  want  to  hear  of  this. 

"Why  do  you  want  to  feel  that  I  am  very 
sick  when  I  am  not.  I  can  ride.  And  then  my 
Beeja  would  weep  without  me!"  he  said,  try- 
ing to  smile. 

292 


OUR  CHILD 


O  God,  what  a  terrible  time!  Through 
what  moments  a  man  has  to  pass !  For  in  this 
one  day  I  endured  more  unhappiness  than  in 
all  the  time  since  war  had  begun. 

To-day  we  passed  over  Kossovo.^  Serbian 
Kossovo  Field !  What  is  contained  in  this  one 
phrase!  What  it  means,  explains,  and  speaks 
to  my  whole  nation!  On  it,  six  centuries  be- 
fore, died  Serbian  Liberty,  after  a  dreadful 
superhuman  battle  with  Mohammedan  tribes. 
On  it  was  beheaded  holy  Tsar  ^  by  the  foul  and 
sacrilegious  hand  of  bald  Mooya.  On  it  fell 
Meelosh-Obeeleetchu ,  Kosantcheetch-I vane, 
Topleetsa-Meelane,  the  nine  dear  brothers  of 
Yoogovitcha,    standard-bearer   Boshko,   the 

^  Kossovo  is  a  large  plain  in  the  southwestern  part  of 
Serbia,  where,  on  the  15th  of  June,  1389,  there  was  a  battle 
between  Turks  and  Serbians,  in  which  the  Serbians  were  de- 
feated and  lost  their  political  independence,  which  they  did  not 
regain  for  more  than  five  centuries.  The  Serbian  people  looked 
upon  Kossovo  Plain  as  one  of  their  most  sacred  and  historical 
places.  It  has  always  been  the  inspiration  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful Serbian  national  songs. 

2  Lazar,  Tsar,  otherwise  "Knez-Lazar,"  ruled  over  Serbia 
from  1375  to  1389.  After  the  battle  of  Kossovo  he  was  taken 
prisoner  and  beheaded  in  the  presence  of  the  mortally  wounded 
and  dying  Murad  I.  He  had  tried  to  create  a  "Christian 
League"  from  neighboring  states  against  Turkish  invasion. 
Later  he  was  biu-ied  in  the  cloister  of  Ravanitsa,  and  is  wor- 
shiped as  a  saint  by  the  whole  Serbian  nation. 

293 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


youngest  among  them  —  all,  all  great  heroes ! 
Yes,  on  it  set  the  sun  of  Serbian  Liberty,  which 
did  not  rise  again  for  five  centuries !  From  it 
did  not  flow  the  sweet  spring  water,  where 
flowed  the  blood  of  the  whole  nation!  On  it 
the  little  nightingale  did  not  warble  where  the 
wild  hidook  shot  his  javerdar  !  Only  the  gray 
eagle  soared  from  it  to  the  dim  clouds,  telling 
to  them  its  pain ! 

On  thee,  after  nearly  six  centuries  of  abject 
slavery,  the  sun  of  Serbian  Liberty  rose  again. 
On  thee  slavery's  chain  was  broken!  Once 
again  the  trumpet-toned  songs  echoed  from 
Serbian  breasts,  proclaiming  the  new  time, 
the  new  happiness ! 

O  immense  plain !  O  great  Kossovo!  Great, 
old  monument!  O  eternal  hope  of  ours!  O 
cradle  of  glory !  O  creator  of  undying  Serbian 
songs !  O  endless  cemetery  in  which  are  lying 
the  bones  of  a  hundred  thousand!  O  sacred 
mirror  of  my  nation!  O  sacred  Kossovo,  of 
what  art  thou  thinking,  what  art  thou  feel- 
ing? Now,  when  over  thine  ancient  shoulders 
are  flying  thy  people?  Leaving  thee,  their 
dear  Kossovo!  I  heard  thy  sigh !  Thine,  and 
294 


OUR  CHILD 


that  deepest  and  most  painful  of  those  thou- 
sands, whose  bones  thou  art  still  keeping  in 
thine  embrace! 

And  we  crossed  Kossovo  to-day  with  our 
sick  Rada !  Oh,  my  good  reader,  can  you  not 
see  how  weak  words  are  before  this  great  un- 
happiness?  And  yet  the  human  heart  must 
suffer  all  this,  suffer  and  still  live  and  beat, 
in  order  to  suffer  still  more. 

Little  Rada  had  ridden  Beeja  all  the  fore- 
noon, but  after  that  he  could  no  longer  ride. 
Suddenly  he  grew  very  weak.  All  the  courage 
of  his  little  heart,  all  his  force,  his  will,  had 
passed.  The  terrible  sickness  had  grasped  him 
in  its  relentless  power! 

Then  we  carried  him  —  one  after  another 
—  as  our  greatest  treasure.  We  went  silently 
with  bowed  heads  over  Kossovo  Field,  and 
in  our  arms  our  child  moaned  sadly. 

When  we  had  crossed  Kossovo  and  night 
came,  we  stopped  and  made  fires.  Rada  was 
lying  on  a  little  pile  of  straw,  twisting  in  pain, 
opening  wide  his  mouth  for  air,  stretching  out 
his  little  hands,  seeking  help !  Help !  Oh,  my 
God!  Was  ever  such  a  night  as  this!  Since 
295 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


five  o'clock  in  the  evening  I  had  ridden  on 
horseback  everywhere  to  find  the  doctor. 
Finally,  far  in  the  night,  I  succeeded  in  find- 
ing him  and  brought  him  hurriedly  to  Rada. 
He  was  a  young  man,  very  good,  and  an  ex- 
cellent friend  of  mine.  He  loved  Rada  very 
much,  as  did  the  whole  regiment,  and  so 
he  came  quickly  to  help  him.  Oh,  my  good 
man! 

Now  he  was  kneeling  before  the  fire,  trying 
to  look  into  Rada's  throat,  holding  his  head 
with  one  hand.  I  was  holding  a  little  dim 
lantern  and  Cheda  was  beseeching  without 
stopping :  — 

"Save  him,  I  implore  you.  Doctor!'* 

At  last  the  doctor  slowly  let  go  the  child's 
head  which  Cheda  took  and  pressed  against  his 
breast.   Little  Rada  began  to  moan  again. 

"What  is  it? "I  asked  the  doctor,  shiver- 
ing. 

He  was  silent.  He  sat  down  before  the  fire, 
covered  his  face  with  both  hands  and  sighed 
deeply.  I  grasped  his  shoulder  and  shook 
him:  — 

"In  God's  name,  speak!  What  is  it?'* 
296 


OUR  CHILD 


"Diphtheria!"  he  said  with  greatest  pain. 

Ah!  My  hair  rose  and  a  cold  sweat  broke 
out  upon  me. 

"And?" 

"Oh,  Meecha,  why  do  you  ask  me  when  you 
know  for  yourself  ..." 

"What!  You  cannot  help  him?"  I  inter- 
rupted him  with  sinking  heart. 

"How?  I  need  serum,  I  need  a  hypodermic, 
a  bed,  care,  ice-packs,  milk,  drugs  .  .  .  and 
.  .  .  where  can  I  find  all  these  here?  " 

"It  means  that  there  is  no  help?  He  must 
die!"  I  exclaimed,  as  insane. 

The  doctor  looked  at  me.  His  eyes  were 
full  of  tears.  Then  his  head  fell  and  he  whis- 
pered :  — 

"Yes,  he  must  die!" 

A  dreadful  scream!  The  scream  of  a  man 
who  has  been  struck  deep  in  the  heart  by  a 
knife.  And  Cheda  exclaimed,  pressing  the 
child  against  his  breast :  — 

"Impossible,  impossible,  I  will  not  permit 
this!" 

The  heads  of  my  soldiers,  who  gazed  at  the 
doctor  with  wide-open  eyes,  after  his  words, 
297 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


were  bowed;  the  last  stroke  had  fallen  upon 
them. 

"He  must  die!"  ran  in  my  head  unceas- 
ingly, and  I  sat  and  gazed  into  the  fire  all 
night. 

"Nana!  .  .  .  nana!  .  .  .  where  is  my  nana? 
...  I  want  my  nana!"  moaned  little  Rada 
in  delirium,  stretching  out  his  little  hands  in 
the  darkness,  toward  the  black  sky. 


The  next  day,  oh,  destiny,  destiny,  we  had 
to  go  forward.  Again  we  carried  our  sick 
child.  Sadly  we  went  on  through  this  dark, 
desert,  terrible  land,  upon  which  God  him- 
self had  turned  his  back.  Before  us  were  the 
gigantic  black  and  white  Albanian  Alps.  And 
we  went  toward  them  with  a  sick  child! 

Rain  began  to  fall  —  the  heavy,  cold,  win- 
ter rain,  which  brought  the  culmination  of 
such  misery  as  made  these  moments  impos- 
sible, unbearable  ...  We  had  to  roll  little 
Rada  in  a  flap  of  a  tent,  and  this  made  his 
condition  much  worse,  for  the  poor  child 
needed  much  the  fresh  air.  We  went  on 
298 


OUR  CHILD 


slowly,  sinking  in  the  deep  mud,  quite  up  to 
our  knees.  And  everywhere  were  so  many 
soldiers,  wagons,  horses  .  .  . 

Little  Rada  had  not  eaten  for  more  than 
twenty-four  hours.  The  sickness  was  such 
that  he  could  swallow  nothing  but  milk.  Then 
I  sent  my  soldiers  in  all  directions  to  find  milk. 
Poor  men!  They  ran  all  day  in  this  awful 
weather,  but  all  came  back,  sad,  exhausted, 
muddy  to  the  neck,  with  empty  cans.  Is 
there  no  milk  in  this  land.'*  An  Albanian 
would  rather  give  poison  than  milk  to  a  sick 
child!  Now,  and  from  hunger,  you  have  to 
die,  my  poor  child! 

When  I  took  little  Rada  to  carry,  he  would 
slowly  reach  out  his  little  hot  hand,  he  would 
embrace  me  with  it,  he  would  look  at  me 
with  his  beautiful  eyes,  sunken,  feverish,  and 
burning,  and  he  would  say  slowly  and  pain- 
fully:- 

"The  good  God  will  not  let  me  die,  for  I 
love  you  so  much,  just  as  I  love  my  nana!" 

My  poor  child!  Do  not  seek  your  nana 
among  those  who  are  alive,  from  those  un- 
happy ones  from  whom  they  are  taking  every- 
299 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


thing,  even  those  they  love  the  most!  Soon 
you  will  embrace  your  real  nana. 

The  raging  wind  drove  the  icy  rain.  I  cov- 
ered the  child  again,  and  when  I  could  see  his 
little  face  no  more,  I  wept. 

Beeja  went  at  the  rear  of  the  company  with 
the  other  horses.  He  went  slowly,  all  wet, 
with  drooping  ears.  Maybe  with  his  animal 
instinct  he  knew  that  now  he  was  entirely 
useless,  and  he  went  along  with  his  nose  to 
the  mud. 

In  the  evening  the  rain  ceased.  Then  we 
stopped,  and  with  great  difficulty  built  fires. 
The  soldiers  found  a  little  dry  straw  some- 
where, on  which  we  put  Rada.  The  night 
brought  still  greater  pain  for  the  poor  child. 
Cheda  and  I  sat  on  each  side  of  him,  watching 
his  awful  suffering.  Looking  without  help- 
ing! Cheda  was  .  .  .  Oh,  how  can  I  describe 
this  to  you?  Imagine  yourselves  in  those  mo- 
ments, good  mothers,  and  create  the  picture. 
How  would  you  feel? 

If  the  rain  ceased,  the  fog  fell  —  dreadful 
heavy  fog.  And  it  was  the  worst.  All  the  air 
for  little  Rada  was  destroyed.  Indescribable 
300 


OUR  CHILD 


pain !  And  in  one  moment,  when  the  child  was 
most  tortured  by  pain,  when  he  opened  wide 
his  mouth  gasping  for  air,  when  in  his  throat 
something  rattled  terribly,  when  his  little 
breast  moved  no  more,  when  his  hand  clutched 
the  air  seeking  help,  then  Cheda  in  a  desperate 
moment  put  his  two  fingers  in  the  child's 
throat  to  remove  that  which  suffocated  him. 

"What  are  you  doing,  unhappy?"  I  ex- 
claimed, pulling  back  his  arm. 

*'What!  To  look  quietly  when  he  is  suffer- 
ing so  dreadfully.'*  What!  Not  to  help  him? 
What!  There  is  really  no  help?  O  God! 
God  .  .  ." 

Thus  passed  the  night  and  two  more  days. 


"He*s  dying!  He's  dying!"  cried  out 
Cheda. 

With  his  little  hands  still  clutching  the  air 
for  help,  with  little  numb  legs,  with  open 
mouth  from  which  the  terrible  husky  sound 
still  came,  with  staring  eyes,  with  his  head 
on  my  arms,  the  child  writhed  in  the  last 
agony,  in  his  dying  gasp  .  .  .  Our  little  Rada, 
301 


SERBIA  CRUCIFIED 


our  child,  our  love,  our  hope,  our  future  was 
dying! 

"  Oh,  my  heart !  My  sweet  soul !  Hear  me !  ** 
cried  out  Cheda,  shaking  the  child  in  insane 
desperation. 

"Hear  me!  Don't  diel  Don't  \esLve  us\  We 
love  you,  so,  so  much  .  .  .  and  no  one  will  love 
you  as  we  did!  Oh,  my  heart!  Oh,  my  child! 
We  will  take  you  with  us  to  Italy !  ^  Yes,  to 
Italy,  where  there  is  always  sunshine.  And 
there  we  will  buy  fine  clothes  for  you.  The 
finest  suit!  And  big  horns!  .  .  .  Oh,  hear  me, 
my  child !  Here  is  thy  bata  Meecha,  and  thy 
cheeka  Cheda  .  .  .  and  all  thy  soldiers.  Tell 
them  again: 'Attention!'  Tell  them  again  .  .  . 
O  God!  God!  Dreadful!  .  .  .  Look  ...  he's 
dying,  he's  dying!"  .  .  .  echoed  these  words 
through  the  terrible  night,  through  this  desert. 

Suddenly  Cheda  started,  and  exclaimed, 
frightened :  — 

"What!  He  shall  die  without  a  candle?" 

A  soldier  came  to  the  fire  and  lighted  a 
piece  of  lootch,^  which  he  gave  to  Cheda. 

*  At  this  time  we  had  heard  that  the  whole  Serbian  anny 
would  be  evacuated  to  Italy. 
2  A  thin  stick  of  pine  wood. 

302 


OUR  CHILD 


"This  is  in  place  of  a  candle." 

Cheda  took  the  burning  stick  with  trem- 
bling hand  and  put  it  in  Rada's  hands  and 
folded  them  over  his  breast.  With  the  last 
strength  the  hands  clasped  around  the  stick. 
And  in  a  last  deep  sigh,  from  which  all  his 
little  body  shook,  his  little  soul  flew  from  his 
tortured  body  .  .  .  and  little  Rada  became  a 
little  angel  who  flew  straight  to  the  arms  of 
his  nana  .  .  . 

The  pitchwood  burned  slowly  and  lighted 
his  pale  face,  and  his  wide-open  eyes.  Eyes! 
His  beautiful  eyes !  Our  dear  little  stars !  The 
stars  of  our  happiness!  Now  dead  .  .  .  From 
the  pitchwood  came  slowly  burning  tar,  which 
ran  down,  making  streaks  on  his  little  hands, 
on  his  dead  hands ! 

Around  midnight  the  snow  began  to  fall  .  .  . 


The  dawn  grew  white,  yet  nothing  could 
be  seen,  for  the  heavy  fog  covered  everything. 
Where  the  fire  was,  snow  had  fallen  .  .  .  We 
were  all  motionless  and  stiffened  by  the  terri- 
ble unhappiness  and  cold  .  .  .  before  us  was  a 
303 


SERBIA   CRUCIFIED 


white  pile.   It  was  the  flap  of  the  tent  which 
covered  little  Rada  .  .  . 

The  soldiers  who  were  passing  by  would 
stop  astonished.  Then  they  understood. 
Slowly,  they  took  off  their  caps,  crossed  them- 
selves, and  went  on  again,  sad,  silent,  with 
bent  heads,  toward  the  white  mountains. 

"  We  have  to  bury  him,"  said  Cheda,  speak- 
ing very  low. 

When  I  hfted  my  head  and  looked  at 
Cheda,  I  did  not  recognize  him.  It  was  dread- 
ful —  what  one  night  made  of  this  man,  this 
father,  this  Serbian! 

Afterwards  the  soldiers  with  greatest  pain 
dug  the  frozen  earth.  They  dug  the  grave  — 
the  grave  for  our  little  Rada,  for  our  dear  lit- 
tle child,  for  our  happiness  .  .  . 

We  put  little  Rada  in  the  case  of  our  com- 
pany's archives,  which  we  took  out  from  it 
and  bound  in  a  flap  of  a  tent.  When  the  sol- 
diers were  lowering  the  case  into  the  grave,  I 
embraced  Cheda.  And  yet  only  these  men, 
only  these  fathers,  can  help  in  these  sorrows 
.  .  .  Oh,  my  good  Cheda!  How  much  we  were 
asking  from  you ! 

S04 


OUR  CHILD 


Never,  over  one  grave,  had  fallen  more  bit- 
ter tears  than  over  this  simple  little  mound 
.  .  .  and  never  warmer  prayers  came  from 
human  hearts. 

Two  Albanians  shivering  with  cold,  with 
their  fingers  in  the  little  pockets  of  their 
trousers,  with  their  heads  wrapped  in  white 
rags,  were  standing  there  and  wondering  what 
we  were  doing. 

**WTiat  is  the  name  of  this  place?"  I  asked 
them  later:  at  least  to  know  the  place  where 
our  child  was  buried. 

The  Albanians  looked  at  me  in  an  insane 
way,  still  more  astonished,  shrugged  their 
shoulders,  and  they  said  their  eternal:  "Skaa- 
heetch!" 

They  did  not  understand  me. 

God!  Will  they,  when  we  go  away,  dig  up, 
destroy  Rada's  grave  from  religious  fanat- 
icism, or  from  wild  instinct,  or  from  bloody 
vengeance,  or  simply  to  take  the  case  and 
child's  clothing? 

THE  END 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U   .   S    .   A 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FAm^^^ 


AA    000  832  672    o 


(fi 


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